


don’t make purple

by ShadowLikesPie



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Busser!Keith, Did I Mention: Angst, Easily Skippable Sin, Fake Relationship, Highschool AU, Keith predominantly hyperactive-impulsive, Keith’s secretly amazing at dancing/singing, Lance combination, Lance is a godsend, Late in the game, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mutual Thirst, Pitch Perfect Sing offs, Shiro is Keiths adoptive brother, Slow Burn, Theatre Kid!Lance, Theatre kid!Keith, both Keith and lance have ADHD, eventual sin, foster kid Keith, nonbinary pidge, rep vs musical theatre rivalries, yep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 10:46:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 40,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14134470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowLikesPie/pseuds/ShadowLikesPie
Summary: Lance McClain was born for two things: the spotlight, and musical theatre.Keith didn't really think he was born for anything, really.But still, looking up at that cast list, they both felt a jolt of something. Something they were, in fact, born for.In which Keith is the new kid, Lance is the poster child for theatre, and they both seem to find each other inside the pages of a script.





	1. Ricky Montgomery

Keith hated change. That was a simple fact. Of course, it was an inconvenience when you were a foster kid. Bouncing around from home to home, never staying in one place. As much as he hated change, he'd never escape it.

Currently, he'd just been transferred to another one. Another temporary home, another place he'd probably be kicked out of soon enough. But for now, he had to show up, shake hands, go to school. All sorts of pleasantries he's terrible at.

His foster brother, another change he wasn't sure about, was talking to him. A steady stream of fake niceties, fake smiles. Keith kept his head down, barely recognizing the words being spoken to him.   
"Keith?" What was his name again? Keith couldn't remember much besides the fact that he had a prosthetic for an arm. "Keith. Did you hear anything I just said?"   
He considered lying. Bounced the idea around in his head, hummed a little bit in his thought process. However, it was too long for his foster brother, apparently. 

  
"So that's a no." Instead of the anger Keith expected, his voice was warm, laced with laughter. It took Keith by surprise. 

"Uh, what?" Keith mumbled, and the older boy laughed. 

"I said, are there any clubs you wanna sign up for? It's a bit late, but we can try to find something that'll take you."

Keith wrinkled his nose.   
"Aren't you out of high school?" He asked. 

"I'm an assistant teacher. Just graduated college, so I'm staying with you guys till I can afford my own place."  
Keith nodded in place of a reply.   
"What's your name again?" He asked casually, staring out the car window. Another surprising spiel of laughter, before the response.

"Takashi, technically, but I go by Shiro." It was at that moment that the car pulled up to a house. It was definitely upper middle class, if not more. Keith's lips parted, for a moment. He hadn't ever been fostered by people that were pretty clearly wealthy. Shiro laughed at his expression.  
"I know it's not a mansion, but, hey."

  
Keith whirled around, shock on his features.   
"Are you joking? It's _huge_." 

  
To be frank, Keith had no idea why he was being fostered. He was 17, just about to be kicked. Junior year of high school. He'd given up on ever being taken in again. Especially with the notes surrounding him from his previous homes. 'Impulsive, angry. Trouble-prone, unfocused. Inattentive, something wrong. Rude, Terrible in school.'  He'd been diagnosed with predominantly hyperactive-impulsive ADHD at a young age, so most people didn't want to deal with that either. Plus, the fact that he was gay often got him kicked out. He had no idea why the Shiroganes took him in, and he expected he'd be back in the orphanage within the month.

No one wanted to deal with him, and that was one of the few things in his life that hadn't changed. 

Shiro placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. "You alright?"  
Keith shook off the multitude of thoughts racing through his head. "Fine. Let's go." 

\----

"Here's your room. Oh, and your meds are on the kitchen counter. You take them in the mornings, right?" 

   
Keith blinked in surprise, turning to Shiro with a look of blatant shock. Shiro laughed. "C'mon, we did read your file. They also said you had a habit of forgetting to take them, so I'll be reminding you frequently."  

 

He bit down the urge to bite back, ' _The orphanage didn’t want to pay for them_.' Instead, he just smiled weakly.  Shiro, surprisingly perceptive as he was, took the hint.   
"I'll leave you to get settled. My room's just two doors down, so knock if you need anything." Keith nodded, biting his lip. "And Keith? I'm glad you're here." He didn't know how to respond to that, so he ended up just staring blankly, unable to form any words. Shiro chuckled as he closed the door behind him. 

Keith heard his laughter down the hall.   
"He's fucking weird." Keith muttered. But at the same time, he could feel a deep warmth spreading in his body. Hope. That maybe he'd be able to stay here. He tried to quell it with reminders, but when he laid down in a surprisingly comfortable bed; one handpicked for _him_ , he found the feeling didn't go away. 

\----

"We don't have many rules, but there is one." Shiro groaned from behind him, and immediately Keith stiffened with alarm.

It was the next morning, right before Keith's first day at a new school. To say he was anxious was an understatement, and his foster parent's cryptic speech wasn't helping.   
Speaking of them, Keith still didn't know what to think. Mrs. Shirogane was a beautiful, clearly boisterous woman. She had an air of authority around her, one that made Keith shrink into his shoes. Mr. Shirogane, however, gave off warmth, laughter lines crinkling his eyes. Keith felt decidedly safest with Shiro, who was a healthy mixture of the two.

  
"Guys, he just moved. You can't pressure him into doing something already." Shiro glared at his mother, who'd spoken before. She rolled her eyes. 

  
"All we ask is that you try out a club. It's the easiest way to find your niche of friends." Keith immediately relaxed. He was scared it was going to be something about 'Don't bring any girls home', and he didn't want to be kicked out immediately. Nor have that conversation yet.

   
"Uh, okay." He murmured, looking down. Eye contact with Mrs. Shirogane was a bit terrifying.

   
"Me and Keith'll be leaving now. Is that alright with you?"   
"Keith and I." Keith muttered, completely instinctually. His blood ran cold. He glanced upwards in horror, slapping a hand over his mouth.

The initial shock on his foster parent's faces melted, dissolving into bright, loud laughter. Shiro looked at him with a strange sort of fondness, causing Keith to shift awkwardly from foot to foot. "Um, sorry." He mumbled, still not sure how to handle this situation.   
"Oh, don't be." Mr. Shirogane slapped a hand on his back, causing him to flinch. "Takashi is an English teacher, so it's hilarious to see him being corrected grammatically. " 

  
"Oh." Keith stated, blinking. His features curved up into a smirk instinctually, and Shiro rolled his eyes at him.   
"Shut up, Keith. Let's go."

   
And for that little slice of time, Keith felt the warmth grow. He looked around at Shiro, and his foster parents, and for the first time, he felt a strange sense of home.

' _I must be in a fever dream_.'  

\----

High school was loud. So, so loud. Keith could already feel the sensory overload kicking in, and he was just walking to his first class. Shiro had left him with a map and detailed instructions, so he was wandering the terrifying halls alone. He slipped in old headphones he'd shoplifted from a gas station, keeping his head down. Ricky Montgomery filtered through his ears, calming him slightly. Hopefully no one would talk to the kid in all black.

The music did a good job of blocking out any attempts at social interaction, and soon he was in his first class. History with a Mr. Smythe, but the whiteboard had MR. CORAN written across it in obnoxious orange.   
Keith sat down, keeping his eyes glued to the floor while his hands were wringing together rapidly. An older man with orange hair and an even brighter mustache came into the room, a gigantic, and honestly terrifying, grin on his face. Keith winced, dreading having to talk to him. He looked around wildly for someone who looked comfortable. His eyes landed on a short kid with headphones in, just like him. Wavy auburn hair fluffed out of the sides of a beanie, further held back by round glasses. They were wearing a shirt with a painting of Mothman, and Keith immediately wanted to be their friend. They looked bored, tapping away at their phone.   
Anxiety was pulling him in two different directions. One, talking to someone made him want to throw up. But two, if he was in the wrong classroom, that would just cause a whole new load of terror. He took a deep breath, and tapped the kid on their shoulder.   
They looked up, pulling an ear bud out with a look of confusion.   
"Hm?"   
Keith winced. "Uh, is this Mr. Smythe's class?" Their eyes melted into understanding, and Keith released the breath that had been choking him.   
"Yeah, it is. He has an obnoxiously long name, but Coran is his first name. For some reason, he likes it better than the rest, so. He forces us to call him Mr. Coran." They rolled their eyes, and Keith snorted.

  
"That's ridiculous."   
They shrugged. "Yeah, well. He's still a fun class. I'm Pidge, by the way." They extended a hand, and Keith took it.   
"Keith."   
"You new here, Keith?" He nodded.   
"Just moved." Before they could continue their conversation, Coran, or rather, Mr. Coran was standing atop a desk. Keith blinked. How did he get up there so fast? 

  
"Good morning class! As you all know, we're starting second semester today. Hope you're all ready for the exciting tale of Russia's downfall!"   
Keith turned to Pidge. "He makes morbid things sound so..cheerful." Pidge snorted, covering it up with a cough.   
"Yeah, that's Coran for you."

  
"Is there a problem, Number Five?" Coran had apparently heard them from that far away. Keith decided he was a superhuman. Or an alien.

Pidge grimaced,  and Keith made a note to ask about the nickname later.   
"No sir, just explaining to new kid here what we're studying." Coran seemed satisfied with that, thankfully moving on without forcing Keith to introduce himself.   


He released a breath. ‘ _This place is crazy_.’ 

\----

He got through the rest of his day without too much error. He had Pidge in a few other classes, but he didn't talk to anyone else besides them.

Keith was fairly sure they went by they/them, as they had a nonbinary flag button on their beanie.   
Once the final bell rang out, Keith sighed. He had to find a club. As he wandered through the signup sheets, he found most clubs were full. The only sport available was football, and Keith immediately wanted to vomit at the thought of straight white guys slapping his ass while saying "No homo, bro!" Chess was a no thank you, and he soon turned to the only one left.

   
REPERTORY THEATRE/MUSICAL THEATRE AUDITION TRYOUTS OPEN  
IN AUDITORIUM AFTER SCHOOL ALL WEEK.  
READ FROM SCRIPT/PREPARE A MONOLOGUE

Keith grimaced. Hell no. It would be fine, he'd just.. Join the chess club. It was something, that way he wouldn't disappoint his foster family. But before he could turn around, a hand was on his shoulder. Keith flinched.   
"You like theatre?" Shiro stood behind him, a bright smile on his face. "That's great! Mom used to do theatre."  Internally, Keith began to panic. He can't lie to Shiro, but he doesn't want to disappoint him, either. And if it would make his foster family like him better, maybe a reason for them to keep him.. Keith bit his lip.   
"Uh, yeah. I guess." Regret stabbed through him immediately, especially when Shiro's face brightened even more. 

  
"Great! I'll sign you up. Rep or MT?" Keith panicked even more at the thought of singing or dancing in front of people, so he blurted out rep, without even being fully sure of it. Shiro signed his name on the paper, and Keith immediately felt his stomach sink.   
This was going to be hell. 


	2. Hugh Jackman

“Who the heck is Keith Kogane?”

Lance McClain was the school theatre program’s poster child. He’d been doing theatre since he could walk, evidence shown by multiple pictures of him waddling around in costume at age 3. As well as several others throughout the years. Lance liked to think he pulled off tights better than anybody else, thank you very much.  
So whenever there was a new face, or in this case, name, in _his_ program; he wasn’t sure what to think.

This year, he was helping out with auditions; reading and such. Lance himself was a musical theatre kid, born and raised. But they tended to mash together musical and rep auditions, just for times’ sakes.

Lance had a sort of..Complicated relationship with repertory theatre. And no, Pidge, the fact that he was turned down by them freshman year has absolutely nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

It did, however, have everything to do with the rivalry between the MT’s and the Reps; something that had gone on since the dawn of time.

Or, really, since the school introduced their theatre program back in ‘83.

Lance was proud to be an MT, as they were regarded around the school. He wouldn’t change it for the world. However, the fact of a new rep kid, especially one that carried a Y chromosome, was surprising.

“Oh, I met a Keith today. He didn’t strike me as a theatre kid though.” Pidge, the green gremlin, as Lance liked to call them, stood behind him. Lance whirled around. He noticed that his best friend and complete blessing, Hunk, was there as well.

“Reps never look like theatre kids. They hide behind their lack of urges to burst into song.” Lance murmured dangerously. Pidge rolled their eyes.

“Not everyone is as obnoxiously loud as you, Lance.” Lance gasped.

“You are a rude gremlin.” He stated, hands on his hips. Pidge smirked.

“Yeah, but don’t test me. I won’t hesitate to turn off your mic on all your solos.” Lance stepped backward, fear shining in his eyes.

“You wouldn’t.”  
Pidge’s smirk grew.

“Oh, but I would.”

Lance scowled, raising his hands in a surrender. Pidge being the head of sound crew really sucked sometimes. They basically had free reign to do whatever they wanted to, which mostly included torturing Lance.

Hunk, blessing as he is, decided to step in.  
“Let’s all just take a breather, guys. Besides, if Pidge turns off your mic I’ll just spotlight you.” Hunk smiled, and Lance wiped a fake tear.

“Hunk, you’re the _light_ of my life.” Lance winked, and Pidge groaned loudly.

Hunk was head of light crew, something very fitting for him. He was actually an amazing bass, but being on stage gave him panic attacks, so he was happy being a techie with Pidge. They worked amazingly together, and they both loved it. Lance loved the two of them dearly, even when he and Pidge squabbled.

Because at the end of the day, they were practically family.

\--

The bell had rang a good 20 minutes ago, and Lance sighed. He’d have to get another ride home from Ms. Allura.

Allura was the best English teacher in the whole school, as well as her English assistant, Shiro. Both of them were unfairly beautiful, and Lance may or may not have been failing English due to being distracted. It was a possibility.

 After waving goodbye to Pidge and Hunk, he raced up the stairs, up to the classroom closest to the stairwell. 

“Heyy best teacher ever! Mind if I..” He trailed off, noticing someone he didn’t know.

Shiro was there, leaning against a wall and talking to a boy that Lance had never seen before. From his current angle all he could see was fluffy black hair in..’ _Oh my god, is that a mullet?_ ’ Lance gaped. Whoever the kid was, he needed a serious remodel.

“I’m fine, Shiro.” Mr. Mullet speaks! And Lance’s mind glitched for a moment, because it was weird to find a voice attractive, right?

"Keith-" Shiro cut himself off at the sight of Lance. "Hey there, Lance. " Mullet didn't turn around, but Lance felt a twitch of recognition. Where had he heard that name..?

He shook it off, turning to Shiro with a grin.  
"Where's your girlfriend?" Shiro immediately flushed, much to Lance's delight.  
"She's not my-"

"Shiro, I barely know you but I can still tell there's something going on." Mullet spoke up, and Lance grinned. Whoever he was, Lance thought they'd probably get along. But he still hadn't turned around.

Lance frowned, but stayed where he was. He didn't want to intrude even more than he already had. 

  
"What brings you here, Lance?"  
Shiro turned to him.

"Just hoping to catch a ride from the Ms." Lance gave Shiro a winning smile. Sadly, it didn't seem to work.

"Allura's going to be a while, stuck in a meeting. I can give you one, if you need?" Lance's grin brightened.

"Please?"

Shiro opened his mouth to speak, but Mullet, (he refused to call him by his real name), stood up abruptly.

"I'm going to be a bit, so. I'll take the bus or something."

Shiro immediately looked pained, reaching a hand out.  
"Keith-"

"See you later, Shiro."

Lance looked between the two of them with confusion. What the hell had he walked into?

Keith got up, but still Lance didn't see his face. He pulled his hood up, kept his head down. Thick black hair covered his eyes, obscured Lance's vision. Music blasted from tiny, clearly cheap headphones.

  
With how fast he left, Lance wasn't sure if he'd ever been there at all.

Lance opened his mouth, about to ask. One look from Shiro, however, and it closed with a snap.

"Ready to leave?"

Lance chose not to comment on how tired he sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter this time, apologies,,And this chapter is really boring and I kinda hate it but! It picks up soon! Next chapter, actually ;) Oh, and Keith's sudden emo will be explained next chapter as well,,
> 
> aLSO THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR ALL THE KUDOS HITS AND COMMENTS I CRIED NO LIE  
> IVE BEEN CRYING  
> SO  
> BLESS ALL OF YOU IM CRYING
> 
> PLS HIT ME UP ON TUMBLR: @simon-says-nothing
> 
> HUGE THANKS TO BETA AND BEST BOY //she refuses to tell me her tumblr even though we close irl so fug u @rabbitboy


	3. Cavetown

Cigarette smoke burned. His throat, his eyes; everything was on fire.

 But still Keith took another drag, wincing when the smoke caught at the base of his throat. He'd told himself he wasn't ever going to smoke again if he was brought into another home. But when he was about to leave the orphanage, he'd still stuffed the Altoid's container full of the opposite of mints in his bag.

More and more reasons to run. Leave before they could realize that they'd made a mistake, that they didn't actually want him. Who would?

It was these sorts of thoughts that caused the argument with Shiro, caused him walking out without even a glance at the other boy that had randomly appeared. Keith didn't care what the boy wanted, what he looked like. At that time, all he wanted was to get out. Get out of the room, get out of Shiro's gaze. Get out of his mind.

It was like a crash. On their way back from the sign-up sheet, they'd run into Coran. When he'd spotted them, his face had widened into a smile.

"Ah Shiro! Walking around with a new lost child of yours, Hm?"

Keith's blood had run cold. He'd pulled away from Shiro, pulled away from everything. It was then that the crash occurred, the halt in his brain. Like a textbook dropping to the floor, a resounding  _thump._

The conversation with Shiro after that mostly consisted of Keith shutting down, with Shiro trying desperately to reason with him. But after hearing that, hearing that he was just another one of Shiro's.. What, experiments? It hurt. It cut deep. So Keith had done what he does best. He'd run. Run far, far away without looking back.

Which brought him here, sitting on a rock about four blocks away from the school, smoking the thing he'd told himself he'd quit. Music blasted in his ears, the volume all the way up as it always was when he was over thinking. The louder the music, the quieter his thoughts.

Ironically, 'This is Home' filtered through his ears.

_I can't really think right now in this place,_

_There's too many colors_

_Enough to drive all of us insane._

He got up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The town was bathed in orange due to the setting sun. Keith watched it set, thoughts flying through his head rapidly. On one hand, he really didn't want to face Shiro or his parents, didn't want to deal with the conflict. On the other, it was fucking freezing.

_Are you dead?_

_Sometimes I think I'm dead._

A deep breath, turning towards the direction of the Shirogane's house. His house.  _'Not for long.'_ His mind whispered, and he bit his lip.

_Cause I can feel ghosts and ghouls wrapping my head_

_But I don't want to fall asleep just yet._

Keith took a deep breath, deciding, then. If he was going to be left again, he didn't want to run from it like he had before. He wasn't going to hide and cry underneath his social worker's legs. He was tired of it.

_Ooooo, My eyes went dark_

_Ooooo, I don't know where_

_Ooooo, My pupils are_

He walked to a bus stop, leaning against the wall. The cigarette was down to the filter, and he smashed what was left of it beneath his foot. People next to him watched him, specifically an elderly couple. They sniffed their noses in disdain, turning away. Keith scowled.

_But I'll figure out a way to get us out of here._

Climbing onto the bus, he fished the four dollars left in his pocket and handed them over to the surly-looking bus driver. The shuffle of steps and loud voices made him wince, curl into himself. He vaguely registered someone trying to talk to him, some kind looking woman with dark skin and silver hair. He turned away, chewing at his lip even more.

_Get a load of this monster,_

_He doesn't know how to communicate._

_His mind is in a different place._

The elderly asses, as Keith had decided to dub them, were watching him as well. He shrank into himself, feeling as if every pair of eyes in the bus was on him. His lip began to bleed.

_Would everybody please give him a little bit of space?_

His breath came faster, eyes darting around the room. They eventually landed on the same woman from before. She'd stopped trying to get his attention, but noticing his eyes on her, she smiled and waved. He turned down his music a few notches surreptitiously, focusing on her eyes. Kind, without any malice. Keith's breath came easier at the sight of a friendly face, something besides disdain.

"Are you Keith?"

_Get a load of this train wreck_

_His hair's a mess and he doesn't know who he is yet_

He nodded. She grinned

"Fantastic! I'm Allura. Shiro's told me all about you." Her voice sounded like chocolate, Keith thought absently.

"You're the girlfriend." Keith stated blankly, causing Allura to flush. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, smiling.

"I'd like to think so." Keith looked away. He didn't want to hear about someone Shiro wanted around for more than just a trophy. He didn't want to know that he didn't matter.

 "He was so excited when you came home last night. He called me, babbling about how happy he was to have a brother." Her eyes crinkled kindly. "Even in the span of a few days, you've still made quite the impression, Keith." Keith's mouth parted in shock.

_But little do we know the stars_

_Welcome him with open arms._

The bus stopped, a block away from the house. Keith sent a panicked glance over, and Allura smiled in understanding. "Your stop?"

"Yeah. " He got up, swinging his bag over his shoulder. Before he could leave, he turned. "Um, thanks." With that, he bolted off the bus. As he walked, Allura's words bounced around in his head.  _'How happy he was to have a brother. So excited when_ you  _came home. Home.'_ Keith continued to chew at his abused lip, not knowing what to do. The new information was mixing with his understandings of himself, the world. How it worked. Everything was confusing, everything made him think something else. 

_Ooooo, Time is_

It was barely two minutes before he was standing outside of the house. Once again, his mind whispered the reminder that it was his house, too. But this time, the other part of his brain didn't speak. Instead, it was Allura's voice.  _'Home.'_

_Ooooo, Slowly_

He stared at the door, his head still undecided. The thought of someone caring about him felt so strange, so alien.  Keith didn't know how to feel wanted, but  _God,_ even the thought of it had him feeling like he was going to burst. He knew tomorrow his usual thoughts would return. Tomorrow, he'd be reminded of the facts. Tomorrow, he'd feel wary and scared and suspicious. But today was today, so he raised his fist to the door.

_Ooooo, Tracing his face_

When Shiro answered the door, Keith felt his whole body freeze. Was he going to be yelled at? Punched? Questioned? However, none of these things happened. What happened was Shiro exhaled like he was releasing a breath he'd been holding for days. " _Keith._ " His voice was free of malice, free of disdain. The fear freezing Keith's heart began to thaw, a little. And when he felt arms around him, it melted completely. Keith mumbled apologies against his shoulder, surprised when Shiro's only response was to tighten his grip.  _Brother._  Keith repeated the word to himself silently, feeling the warmth from yesterday take control of his heart. And oh, how his heart soared. 

_But strangely he feels at home in this place._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me longer for a lot of reasons,, mostly I just wanted to accurately describe how it feels to not expect anything to be constant and how easy it is to just run away or push everything away. Being forced into an entirely new life is so fucking hard, and I just really want to accurately show that. I hope I did alright,,
> 
> A question: Would you guys prefer shorter chapters with faster updates or longer chapters with slower updates? Lemme know in the comments :D
> 
> As always, thank you so so much to my beta, and you guys! To everyone reading, commenting, adding kudos,, it really means so so much to me and I literally start crying every time I look at the hit count and?? It's just such a blessing thank you guys so much.
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr: [@simon-says-nothing](https://simon-says-nothing.tumblr.com/)  
> There's a playlist for this fic! I listen to music and draw inspiration and mood from it constantly, I can't write without it and it'll probably enhance the read, so! If you'd like, please check out the playlist for this fic [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/shadowedquinn/playlist/3cTWM4m8pO8gMDQYDG1sTt) !


	4. Tally Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i changed the description!! pls dont be confused!

Tests were awful. School, in general, was awful, but tests especially. In tests, you couldn't have headphones in, you couldn't tap or fidget or move. In tests, anyone that made the slightest noise made Lance's head snap towards the sound, immediately distracted.

Lance hated tests. And as he miserably stared at the English paper in front of him, he knew. He knew, deep in his bones, that he was going to fail. Not kindly, with a 'You can do this! :)' note from Shiro, oh no. 

Lance was going to fail the way the Roman Empire fell, in fire and ashes. 

In order to take a break from impending doom, Lance let his eyes flick around the room. So far, he could see the usual, kids asleep, kids just playing on their phones. The smart kids, looking softly pleased with themselves because they obviously knew what they were doing. Lance cursed them under his breath. 

A familiar, but new, observation greeted him. He immediately recognized the mullet, sitting just in front of him. The same boy that just walked out of the room yesterday without even acknowledging his presence. Lance tried to crane his neck to see the other boy’s face, but he could only see the guy’s desk. And it was empty. 

Lance’s mind glitched for a second. Wait, what? They’d just gotten this test maybe 20 minutes ago. And it was a  _reading_ test. There’s no way Mullet boy could be done already. He probably just didn’t try, Lance thought. 

But still, the boy didn’t have the same air as the kids who had slapped their tests down in the first ten minutes, looking bored and smug. He wasn’t on his phone, wasn’t asleep. For some, most likely insecurity-fueled reason, this pissed Lance off.

With renewed vigor, determined to do better; Lance turned his eyes back to his test.

In 20 minutes, he was slapping the paper on Shiro’s desk, a smug smirk on his face. When he looked back towards Mullet, the boy was asleep.

Lance’s blood boiled. 

 

\----

 

Lance was always required to try out for both plays. This was because the head of the theatre program, none other than Allura herself, forced him to. He always got into the musical, which he  _preferred_ , thank you very much. But still, Allura pressured him into auditioning for both plays every year. It was more of a formality, at this point.

His audition was right after school, so that he could help out with the rest of the auditions straight after. Nervousness wasn't something Lance really knew, not when it came to the familiarity of this. Lance went through the motions easily, singing for the musical, acting out the monologue he'd prepared. It was when Allura asked him to read for the rep play that he froze.

The rep play this year was Proof by David Auburn. From what Lance knew and heard, it was amazing. But, as mentioned previously, he was an  _MT._ Rep had rejected him once, and from then on he'd declared a special type of dislike for it. So when Allura asked him to read for Hal, the male lead of Proof, he froze.

"Uh, don't you mean read for the Beast? Or Lumiere?" The musical that year was Beauty and the Beast, one of Lance's favorites. Allura arched an eyebrow.

"How presumptuous of you, Lance. Now read." Lance's face burned, glancing at the others in the room. It was only Coran, the director for the musical, Allura, and Shiro (the choreographer for the musical). All of them looking at him with the same ' _Really?'_ expression. But it wasn't Lance's fault he literally always got the lead. If anything, it was theirs.

"Jeez, fine, fine." Lance raised up his hands in defeat.  

The lines they had him read were interacting with Catherine, the real lead of the show. Proof was a play about Catherine and her father Robert, who passed away a week before the play occurs. Her father was a brilliant mathematician with a debilitating mental illness that rendered him crazy at a young age. Catherine fears she has the same illness as her father, and she falls in love with her father's student Harold Dobbs(Hal). That was all Lance knew, besides the fact that it was brilliantly written.

But the fact was, Lance didn't want to be in the rep play. He wasn't built for how serious they usually were, how little comedy and how little  _dancing_ there was. Lance just wasn't interested. So when they had him read maybe two lines of the Beast and then sit, he was worried. They couldn't do this to him. He was the  _king_ of musical theatre. And he loved his kingdom, dammit.

To summarize, Lance was fucked. And due to this, he barely tried in the endless list of auditions, kids coming on and sucking and kids coming on and being amazing. Whatever it was, Lance read most of the co-star character lines in a monotone voice, only picking it up whenever Allura smacked him. This continued in a fairly repetitive pattern, till he heard a name that he recognized.

"Audition number 26, Keith Kogane."

And oh, he was pretty. Lance's lips parted, at the same time that Keith blushed. They both had the same thought, simultaneously:

_'Fuck.'_

It was Mullet, the douche who walked out the second Lance entered the room yesterday. Mullet, who for some reason made Lance want to try in English. It was the first time Lance had seen his face, and he felt his inner repressed thoughts and questionings spring back up. Because  _fuck,_ was he pretty. And currently, his face was red, just adding to the overall effect.  _'Shit, I have to tell Pidge they were right about me being bi.'_

Lance noted the way he shifted from foot to foot, biting his lip. Was he nervous? His face softened, slightly. The anger (jealousy) from English was still there, reminding him this wasn't a person to admire or find cute, but he was empathetic. He'd been there, nervous as hell in front of judges.

 At least, until he smiled reassuringly at the boy, and Keith just frowned at him and looked away.

He felt his mind switch directions.  _'Wow, okay.'_  

Immediately, Lance straightened in his seat, glaring at Mullet-boy. Keith could obviously feel his gaze pretty clearly, as he ended up looking even more nervous. Allura elbowed Lance, before speaking to him:

"Repertory theatre, right?"

When Keith looked at her, recognition sparked in his eyes, and his mouth dropped in shock. Lance frowned. ' _What the hell?'_

"You're- from the bus-" Keith stopped his shaky stuttering, closing his eyes for a moment. "Sorry. Yeah, rep." Lance just got even more confused, looking back between Keith and Allura with a dumb stricken expression. He tried to nudge Allura questioningly, but she shook him off.

She ignored Keith's stuttering, turning to her open script.

"Any experience with theatre?"

Keith bit his lip worriedly, apparently a habit of his.

"A long time ago, yeah." He finally spoke, voice barely above a murmur. Lance raised his eyebrow, deciding to chip in.

"Like, when you were a toddler, or?" He drawled. Allura hissed a warning towards him, but he ignored it. Keith's nervous expression quickly molded into irritation. Lance smirked at that. It was one way to get someone more relaxed for their audition. Not that that was what he was trying to do, of course.

Allura ignored the both of them, moving on.

"What part are you auditioning for?"

"The smallest one." Lance laughed at that.

"We'll make you play the doorknob then, Mullet." His voice was laced with mirth. Keith just shrugged.

"Sounds good to me."

Lance stared at him, dumbfounded. The hell was up with this kid? He looked at Allura, meaning to get an agreeing ' _The fuck?'_ glance, but she was looking at the two of them with interest. Lance's eyes widened. That was Allura's scheming face. That was the face that haunted his nightmares.

"Allura." He scream-whispered, "What are you thinking?" She ignored him, of course. Because she just loved to make Lance terrified for his life.

"Did you prepare a monologue?" She asked towards Keith, who just flushed. "That's fine. Open to page.." She hummed. "Page 15, read for Hal. Lance will read for Catherine." Keith sighed, opening to the page. "Hal is a geeky but sweet student of Catherine's late father, eager to find out more about his works." Keith nodded dumbly. Lance smirked, waiting for the typical lack of emotion with baby-theatre-kids.

But when Keith opened his mouth, Lance stopped for a moment. Because, quite simply,  _what the fuck?_ He wasn't terrible. He was the opposite, actually. The stunted irritation fell away, even though there was clearly still some awkwardness. He didn't do well to cover up his discomfort, but his tone wasn't monotone. Keith had clearly considered the text, at the very least, inputting the little he knew about Hal into his speech. It very clearly wasn't a good character for him, but he still managed to pull it off alright, and Lance stopped.

Instead of saying his line, like he was supposed to, he ended up blurting out, "Wait, you actually  _have_ done this before?" Keith frowned.

"Is that not what I said?" Lance flushed.

"Yeah, but I mean. You don't look like an actor." Keith's expression flattened.

"Shit, sorry, let me grab my Shakespearean era cloak, along with a  _Wicked_ shirt. Would that be better?" His voice was completely deadpan, eyebrow raised. Lance sputtered.

"I don't know, probably!" Keith rolled his eyes.

Allura coughed, and they both snapped their gazes back to her.

"We're going to try something different, if that's alright with the peanut gallery?" The boys looked down, flushing in mutual embarrassment. She rolled her eyes, air of authority strong. "Turn to page 73. Keith, read for Catherine. Lance, read for Hal."

They both turned to the text.

"This scene is when Catherine tells Hal that the brilliant math proof that Hal found wasn't written by her father, but written by herself. Lance, if you could please join Keith on stage." Lance stared at Allura in shock.

"What?" He squeaked, because he knew her. He knew that she put two people on stage together in auditions when she thought they'd do extremely well. And Hal and Catherine were  _love interests, for fuck's sake._ Allura just arched one of her perfectly groomed, irritating eyebrows at him.

"You start the scene, Lance." Was all she said. He practically stomped onto the stage, opening his script and glaring at Keith.

"You sure you're up for playing a chick, Mullet?" He taunted, and Keith just rolled his eyes.

"Like it fucking matters. " Violet eyes stared straight into his own as Keith took a step toward him. "You sure you can act?" His voice was low, breathy. Full of promises, full of lies. Lance's breath caught in his throat. The room felt abruptly full, charged with something Lance couldn't name. Lance wasn't sure if he was excited or terrified, but looking at Keith, he felt a distinct need to do better. To impress, to flaunt the reason why he always got the leads. This new kid had absolutely  _nothing_ on him, and Lance was determined to prove it.

"Can we begin today, please?" Allura's voice shattered the energy, broke the eye contact. He looked down towards his script, wondering if today would just entirely consist of embarrassing himself in front of Allura. But none of that mattered, right now. Right now, it was his time to shine. So he opened his mouth, and began to do what he did best.

"No it doesn't matter! He could have dictated it to you for Christ's sake, it still doesn't make sense!" Hal was agitated, and Lance took that and applied it to his own agitation, his own irritation. Keith immediately understood the direction and energy of the scene, jumping straight into his line with the same sort of sass and underline anger from before.

"Why not?"

"I'm a mathematician." Lance took a step towards Keith, arm arching out to make a point. Still the other boy stood strong, eyebrow raising in the same way it did before they were in scene.

"Yeah?" Keith's voice challenged him, his stance and tone completely revving Lance up, encouraging him to go, do more.

"I know exactly how hard it would be to come up with something like this, I mean it's impossible! You would have to be- you'd have to be your dad- basically your dad at the peak of his powers!" Keith strode towards him then, barely glancing at the script before spitting out his next line:

"I'm a mathematician too." His voice cut through the space, and  _god,_ Lance could take from it. They were feeding off of each other's energies, bouncing moods and ideas off of one another and it was positively addicting. Lance took a deep breath, scoffing at Keith, at his gall.

"Not like your dad." And he expected Keith to pause, to get quietly furious, but Keith marched towards him, fire in his eyes.

"Oh, he's the only one that could have done this?" Keith waved the script in the air, as if it was the proof they were arguing about.

"The only one I know." Lance declared, taking a step back from Keith's anger, his overwhelming intensity.

"Are you sure-" Keith started, but he was cut off,

"Your dad was the most-" Keith stood directly in front of him now, expression fierce as he began the next line immediately.

"Just because  _you_ and the rest of the geeks  _worshipped_ him doesn't mean he wrote this proof, Hal." His voice rose, cutting into Lance's attempt at calm diplomacy like a knife. Lance got into his face, trying to prove his point as best as he could in the face of Keith's anger.

"He was the best. My generation hasn't produced anything like him. He revolutionized the field twice before he was 22," Lance's voice rose then, quitting with his meek attempt at logic. "I'm sorry, Catherine- You took some classes at Northwestern for a few  _months."_ He was condescending, expecting Keith to crumble, to give up. But he only rose more, getting so close Lance could see the purple flecks in enraged eyes.

"My education wasn't at Northwestern, it was  _living in this house for the past 25 years!"_ Keith's voice rose to an almost frustrated scream then, making Lance step back in shock. He said the next line with slightly less intensity, trying to change Keith's rapidly vamping anger.

"Doesn't matter. It's too advanced."

Keith didn't skip a beat.

"You think it's too advanced?" He was close now, so fucking close. Lance met the intensity in his eyes with his own.

"Yes." And just as Keith opened his mouth to scream his next line, Allura clapped her hands together.

And just like that, it broke. The intensity, the intoxicating way Keith's responses flowed next to his and the way they flowed back and forth, gone. It was a shattering of emotion, both of them realizing at once just how much it'd affected them, just how much they'd become intertwined with not just the text, but each other.

Keith's face flooded with color, and he practically jumped back. Lance took a deep breath in, looking away. The whole world felt hazy after spending so much time in a different one.

"Great job, both of you. Keith, you're free to go." He still seemed dazed, but nodded at Allura's words. Before he left, however, he glanced at Lance. And when their eyes met, a ghost of the same intensity was there, the way they'd instantly connected over the stage.

In a flash of black hair, it was gone.

 

\---

 

** PROOF CAST LIST **

CATHERINE: KEITH KOGANE

ROBERT: LOTOR DAIBAZAAL

CLAIRE: SHAY BALMERA

HAL: LANCE MCCLAIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik ik took forever i'm sorry life has been crazy lately! Im really sorry, but hey, they interacted? So? Yay?  
> Also the acting high Lance is experiencing is 100% real and happens, only when you have a crazy good scene partner and amazing chemistry with them. I can attest to it, and it is fucking addicting. PSA: I do not own any text from the play Proof by David Auburn.   
> //but srsly the whole play is on youtube and its absolutely amazing i HIGHLY recommend
> 
> I updated the description of this fic, so pls dont be confused!
> 
> As always, thank you so so much !!
> 
> Come scream with me on tumblr: [here](https://simon-says-nothing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Playlist for this fic: [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/shadowedquinn/playlist/3cTWM4m8pO8gMDQYDG1sTt)


	5. Flatsound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith looked at Lance, his small sniffles as he bit into the chocolate. The way his eyes sparkled when he saw that the Coke was in the glass bottle, the soft sigh as he took a sip. And Keith felt his face rise in temperature, felt the flush riding high on his cheeks.
> 
> 'Oh, fuck me.'

Keith was humming along to AJJ underneath the school’s stairwell when he was assaulted by a mob of green. To clarify, this was clearly a person wearing green clothes, one with auburn hair and a familiar short stature. 

Keith blinked. “Uh, hi, Pidge.” 

They shot up from the pile of limbs, turning to him with urgency in their eyes. 

“Christ, do you even know how hard it is to find you?” They looked around, grimacing. “You’re like an emo Harry Potter. Under your stairwell.” Pidge snorted at their own joke, but Keith just rolled his eyes.

“Why did you even look?” Keith questioned, a blank look on his face. Pidge just snorted again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just-“ They coughed out another laugh. “You really  _are_  emo.” Keith didn't grace this with a reply, instead just frowning up at them. Suffice to say, he was confused.  Pidge eventually shook themselves out of it.

"Dude, have you seen the cast list?" Pidge tore off their backpack, decorated with endless buttons and patches. Keith barely got to read a button that read: ' _What's a nice kid like me doing in a place like this?'_ Before it was yanked back on their body. A  paper was shoved under Keith's nose. He took it gingerly, still sort of scared by their abrupt appearance.

When he saw his name under Catherine, he frowned.

"So am I going to have to wear a dress?" That was his first thought, because his thoughts were constantly scrambled. Pidge rolled their eyes.

"Does it matter? You got the lead!"

At this, Keith frowned. While it was true that he had acted before, he had a..complicated past with theatre. Mostly including panic attacks on stage, stage fright so immense it froze him to his chair.

But somehow, looking into irritatingly confident blue eyes, it was like the fear had melted away. ' _Replaced by annoyance.'_ His brain chirped in a reminder that he did  _not_ enjoy Lance McClain's presence. His face, maybe, but personality? Ugh.

"Uh..Cool?" He responded instead, to which Pidge rolled their eyes. "You did  _not_ just say 'cool' to getting a lead in your first year in this school, first year with  _Allura,_ the pickiest director in the world." Keith looked at them, and deadpanned:

"Cool." Pidge slapped him with the cast list.

It was then that they heard a loud, intense cry of dismay from somewhere else in the school. Pidge looked towards the source, a look of foreboding in their eyes.

"It's happened." Keith arched an eyebrow. Pidge was speaking as if the apocalypse had started, and they turned to Keith, urgency in their eyes. "Quick, get tissues, chocolate, and Coke. In the glass bottle."

Keith faltered. "I'm.. Broke?" But they were already gone, racing off in the direction of the scream.  Leaving Keith to wonder what the hell he was supposed to do in this situation. He didn't have a phone, but, to his luck, Shiro's classroom was close by.

He raced up the stairs, bursting through the door. "Shiro-"

Keith stopped. Shiro was asleep, head buried in a stack of papers. Keith resisted the urge to snort.  _'How overworked is he..?'_  When Shiro still didn't wake, Keith knew he had to resort to other measures. With a smirk, he picked up the mostly-empty cup of water next to Shiro's arm, letting it drip onto Shiro's head.

What he didn't expect was the arm crushing his windpipe, the brute force of being thrown against a wall. When the arm finally dropped, he fell to the floor, coughing violently.

" _What the fuck?"_ Shiro stepped back, staring at him like he was a stranger. Eventually, recognition flashed in his eyes.

"Oh my god." Shiro's prosthetic rose to his mouth in horror.

"I-I'm sorry." The older boy stuttered. "You startled me-"

" _I_ startled  _you?"_ Keith hissed, voice still not working properly. Terror still flooded through his veins, heart thumping irregularly. He gathered his stuff, panic and repeated thoughts of  _'NotSafenotsafenotsafenotsafe'_ overloading his brain.

His hands shook so badly, his books slipped right through his fingers.

When Shiro handed them back to him, guilt and worry painted across his features, Keith dug his teeth into his lip far more viciously than before. Blood trailed into his mouth, and he ran.

\----

 

Somehow, Keith found himself in the school's gift shop. It was a big school, big enough to have a small little store like this, with the necessities. Almost robotically, Keith fell back into old habits. 

A small packet of tissues, slipped naturally into his jean pocket. Chocolate, hidden in the seams of his sweater. Coke in a bottle, fitting comfortably against the skin of his arm.

"Not buying anything today?" The lady at the cash register smiled at him, and he forced a smile back.

"Not today, ma'am."

 

\----

Pidge found him wandering the halls aimlessly, rubbing at the sore spot on his neck.

"Where the hell have you been? Did you grab the stuff?" They grabbed the arm with the Coke in its sleeve, frowning when recognition hit. " _Keith."_  

He rolled his eyes. He was in a bitchy mood, and he was allowed to be, so he just glared. "I told you I was broke."

"You didn't have to  _steal-"_

_"_ Whatever, Pidge. A few corporate fuckheads missing a few cents, what a damn  _tragedy_." His voice was cold, biting. Pidge, however, didn't seem to take it. Everyone else he'd do this to immediately knew to back off, but Pidge just rolled their eyes. "Did you just steal the coke?" Keith stared at them, stricken.

They didn't grace him with a response, instead snapping their fingers impatiently. Muted, Keith reached into his pockets, handing them the tissues and chocolate.

"Perfect. Come with me, you freaking emo kid." Keith, still stunned into silence, allowed himself to be tugged towards the direction of the drama room.

Pidge kicked the door open to reveal a sniveling Lance McClain in the arms of a beautiful, burly boy. Lance looked up at their intrusion, and Keith was shocked to see red, leaky eyes.

"Pidge, why did you bring  _him?"_ His voice, wavering and yet still full of irritation, made Keith pause. He began to shift from foot to foot, feeling like he was intruding on something deeply personal.

"I should go." Keith murmured, feeling his bloody lip start up again.  Pidge waved a hand impatiently.

"Look, Lance, he stole shit for you." Pidge dumped the items in Lance's lap. The other boy that Keith didn't know looked up, worried slightly.

"Stole..?" But he didn't have time to ponder about that, because Lance was crying all over again.

"H-how did this..m-mullet know that C-Cadbury is my favorite?"

Keith resisted the urge to say that it was the farthest from the camera.

Pidge was laughing, and the big one was snorting, and Keith found himself fighting the urge to crack a smile. He leaned over to Pidge, whispering in their ear,

"Why is he crying?"

They sighed. "He's not in the musical." Keith frowned.

"But he's a lead in the rep play."

"Look, Lance really loves singing and dancing. Dancing, especially. He loves musicals more than anything in the entire world. " Keith looked at Lance, his small sniffles as he bit into the chocolate.  The way his eyes sparkled when he saw that the Coke was in the glass bottle, the soft sigh as he took a sip. And Keith felt his face rise in temperature, felt the flush riding high on his cheeks.

_'Oh, fuck me.'_

Lance looked up, frowning. "What are you looking at?" Keith just ended up stuttering, looking away.

"N-nothing." Lance turned to Pidge, an arched eyebrow.

"You sure about him?" Lance asked, completely serious. Keith looked between them in confusion. ' _Sure about what?'_ But Pidge just nodded sternly.

"He's obviously got issues, he's alone, and he's in theatre. Meets our requirements." Keith began to panic.

_'Requirements for what?'_ Lance sighed at Pidge's words.

"Fine, fine. Mullet?" Abruptly, a hand was being outstretched towards him. It belonging to Lance, the same Lance that he felt alive with on stage, the same Lance that was crying over chocolate and dance. Keith, not knowing what to do, just stared at him blankly. "Just shake it, would you?" Keith, still wary, took Lance's hand. The word  _'soft'_ burst through his brain, but Lance was looking at him, distracting him.

"Well, Mullet Kogane, welcome to Voltron."

"Vol..Tron?" Keith trailed off, confused. Pidge put their head in their hands, sighing.

"It's what Lance calls us. It's stupid, ignore him. What he means is, you've survived initiation. " Keith was desperately confused.

"Initiation..? So, Lance crying wasn't real?"

Pidge snorted. "No, it totally was. You actually getting shit and staying, that's what matters." They grinned crookedly at him.  "You're one of us now, Kogane. One of the outcasts."

And the warmth that had begun to set in when he first moved here grew, blossomed into a blazing fire. He looked at Lance's casual smirk, at Pidge's grin, at the soft smile of the boy who he didn't even know yet, and felt himself melt a little.

' _I belong somewhere.'_

The thought was so foreign, Keith had trouble believing it was even real.

 

 

\-----

 

When Shiro knocked on his door, Keith was tempted to pretend he was asleep.

But he hadn't locked it, so when Shiro crept in, Keith knew he was fucked.

"Hey."

Keith chose not to respond. 

 Shiro sighed heavily. "You want to know why we're wealthy?" Keith didn't comment on the fact that he said  _we're,_ like it had been Keith's money, his family all along. The thought made his chest warm up again, but he fought it down. Shiro sat on the edge of his bed, and Keith sat up, staring at him with curious but wary eyes.

 "The military reimburses us every month." Shiro turned to look at him, and Keith's eyes shot down to his prosthetic.

And immediately, it clicked.

' _Oh.'_

And immediately, Keith felt like an idiot.

"Oh my god, that's fucking- number one rule with PTSD." Keith dropped his head into his hands. "I'm so fucking sorry, Shiro."

"You couldn't have known." Shiro shrugged, and Keith, emotionally stunted and awkward as he was, burst out a secret of his own.

"I smoke cigarettes." Shiro's responding chuckle made Keith's anxiety melt away.

"I know, Keith. I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy apologies for the wait, life has been crazy and I don't think anyone's actually reading this anyways, BUT! I really love and appreciate every hit and kudo and everything and I also really love writing this so never fear,,
> 
> Come scream on tumblr with me: [Link text](https://simon-says-nothing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Playlist for this fic: [Link text](https://open.spotify.com/user/shadowedquinn/playlist/3cTWM4m8pO8gMDQYDG1sTt)


	6. Cyndi Lauper

To be honest, Lance wasn't completely on board when Pidge asked them about Keith Kogane. Scratch that, he was completely against even the thought. First of all, the guy was a douche. He didn't like Shiro. Not liking Shiro was basically not liking God.

No, Pidge, his opinion wasn't affected at all by the fact that Shiro was basically a Greek God in terms of attractiveness. Not one bit.

Keith, however, had been outwardly hostile towards Shiro, the teacher literally everyone is in love with. It just didn't make sense.

Plus, the fact that he ignored Lance and one-upped him in English didn't help. Look, he was obviously an obnoxious prick. So he was a good ( ~~addicting~~ ) scene partner. Didn't mean Lance wanted him to join their entire friend group. The thought made him physically ill.

However, Pidge is very insistent. And yeah, maybe, when they brought up being able to see that positively gorgeous face more, he might have bent a little. And yeah, he could still hate a guy and also find him unbearably attractive. Nothing wrong with that.

But seeing him when Lance was mid-breakdown? Not his favorite.

The fact was, Lance was born for musical theatre. He was meant for it, the absolute high of hitting the note correctly, the feeling of dance, everything about dance. Feeling his body move in tune with the character, feeling his lips move along as well. All of it was his own drug.

What he wasn't born for? Repertory theatre. He wasn't born for the cold lighting, the dry humor not backed up by piano. He wasn't meant for how even in rep comedies, there was usually still an undertone of something deeper. He was never built for any of it.

Of course Lance respected repertory theatre. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

So no, Keith, his crying wasn’t fake. It was completely authentic, fueled by real heartbreak. And yeah, maybe he’d agreed to Pidge when they asked about testing him, but he did not agree to do that test when he was mid-tragedy. Suffice to say, Lance was a little pissed.

Maybe more than a little.

“Lance, stop pouting.” Pidge’s voice came from behind, sneaking up on him.  It was lunchtime, and they were where they always were: the heavens.

Which was what they called the stage roof, holding all the different sound and light equipment. There was a piece of it reserved for techies, a small, dark corner in which you could see the rest of the theatre, but it could not see you. It was the only part of their grid with actual stability, a piece of plywood and, strangely enough, wood stumps to sit on.

Apparently, Coran used to be a lumberjack.

It was their place, where they ate, where Lance went to think. The best place on Earth is the stage, but just above it is pretty great, too.

Behind Pidge was the man of the hour, (in Lance’s head, anyways), Keith Kogane. Lance smirked at him, expecting the trepidation and fear that came with most people’s first experience in heaven. But when Keith jumped off the ladder, grinning as the whole grid shook slightly, Lance stopped.

When Keith immediately began to walk towards the weak gridlines, the metal holding the lights, Hunk screamed. Pidge grabbed him by his shirt, dragging him backward. Lance, though?

Lance stared at the wonder and the awe on Keith’s face, the violet eyes turned soft. And, for some reason, he couldn’t look away.

“How did you even get allowed to be up here?” His voice was hushed, the awe from his eyes trickling into his mouth.

‘ _Beautiful_.’ Lance’s thoughts whispered, but he thought that was overtly gay, so he decided to do what he did best: Overcompensate.

“Secret.” His voice broke through the softness, a rock dropping into tranquil waters. Hunk stared at Lance, he knew Lance’s childish, over-the-top voice. Lance bit his lip, knowing that was going to be talked about later.

Keith looked at him, then, lips quirked in the strangest way.

“Well shit, alright.”

_'Who is this boy?'_

Lance decided he’d rather like to find out.

 

\-----

 

That night was the first rehearsal. And Lance was in a sort of shock at the sheer lack of cast members, how there wasn’t excited milling about or loud, rambunctious laughter. No musical soundtrack playing happily from Coran’s outdated speaker. Lance tried to erase the twinge, the slightest feeling that this felt wrong.

He looked at the rest of his cast: Keith, the irritatingly pretty Lotor (Who he absolutely despised), and Hunk’s girlfriend, Shay. And he whistled, long and low, because it was dead silent. And if there was something Lance McClain was born for besides theatre, it was breaking awkward silences.

Three heads swiveled to look at him, all at once. Keith’s expression was one of a raised eyebrow, as if he was saying, ‘Really?’. Lotor looked dismissive, his holier-than-thou attitude in full force. Lance wanted to bite his head off, but he turned to look at Shay, instead. She, complete and utter blessing as she is, smiled at him, waving. Hunk and her had that in common: both of them were complete and utter beacons of light amongst overwhelming darkness.

“Well, this is a small crew, is it not?” Lance laughed, fake and wholeheartedly, frowning when he got no response besides Shay’s quiet “Yep, haha!”.

“Tough crowd.” Keith muttered under his breath, a smirk twitching at the edges of his lips. Lance took offense to this, because that was his line, thank you very much.

“You’re part of that crowd, Mullet.” Lance bit, glaring at him. Keith looked up, shock blooming across his features. Did he think Lance wouldn’t hear him?

“I was saying it in pity of you.” Despite the original shock, Keith had no trouble bouncing right back.

“I don’t need your pity.”

Keith snorted at that.

“Maybe, but you want it, right?”

Before Lance could reply, as absolutely enraged as he was; how could he ever think this boy might be alright, Allura walked in.

“Greetings, cast!” She clapped her hands together gleefully, smiling. “Congratulations to all of you, this was extremely difficult casting for an extremely difficult play. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She looked genuinely proud, especially when her eyes landed on Lance. He felt the dark from not being in the musical trickle away, just a little. “Before we begin, any questions?”

Lance just sat down on the stage itself, head propped in his hand. Lotor made a sniff of distaste behind him, seated in an auditorium seat as he was. Surprisingly, Keith raised his hand.

“I’m supposed to play Catherine, but I’m..” He gestured to his decidedly very male physique, Lance’s eyes lingering a little too long.  Allura laughed.

“Keith, gender, especially in theatre, is bullshit.” Keith blinked at her strong language, but she just laughed. “We can change pronouns and name, if you’d like. “

Keith looked like he was terrified to offend the masses, terrified of wearing a dress, etc.. Lance decided to save him.

“Dude, Catherine wears sweatpants and a hoodie the entire time.”

“I don’t look like a girl, though. That’s my concern, Lance.” He was staring at him as if Lance thought he was some close-minded fuckboy, and it made Lance shrink back. It was at this moment that Lotor decided to butt in, with his ultimate fuck-boy-ery, smirking lazily at Keith.

“You’re pretty enough to be.”

Keith, however, didn’t seem to register this very well. He just blinked at Lotor, arching his eyebrow. “Okay..?”

‘ _The prettiest guy in school just hit on him, and all he has to say is okay. Who is this boy?’_

Allura clapped her hands again, her basic symbol of ‘Shut the fuck up.’

“Keith, let’s just play with both options till we settle on something you’re comfortable with. Personally, I’d be delighted to bring representation into a school play, but, I care about your comfort first.” Instead of the response Lance expected, the usual ‘I’ll think about it, thank you, Ms. Allura,’ Keith just blinked at her, and stated:

“I’m gay.”

Lance’s jaw dropped in shock, as Lotor smirked, as Shay piped out a quick ‘I support you!’. Lance stood by his earlier statements; and  if there was a better way to state the strength of his thoughts, he was sure he’d have used it when he thought, for the third time:

_**‘Who the hell is this boy?’** _

Allura looked just as confused as the rest of them, but she just smiled at him weakly, clapping her hands together again. “Shall we begin the read-through?”

Keith decidedly looked like he wanted to die. Gnawing at his lips, looking around with a panicked stare, bouncing his leg violently. Lance, at that moment, felt a distinct pity for him.

How ironic things were, he thought as he jumped down from the stage, sitting next to Keith. When Keith stared at him in confusion, Lance just smirked.

“Tough crowd, huh Mullet?”

And thus marked the day that Lance would keep in his memory forever, that he’d write down on his Playbill calendar with a fervent reverie.

That was the day Lance McClain made Keith Kogane smile.

\------

 

Afterward, when Keith had stumbled his way through the script until the part that he and Lance had auditioned with, when he finally began to act, to show skeptical Lotor that he could shove it because Keith was a motherfucking actor, Lance dragged him outside the school auditorium. He was feeling the strange high that play practice gave him, the weird feeling of both relief and melancholy at it being over. The lightheadedness that came from being in someone else’s mind for a bit, the giddy laughter that spilled from his mouth when Keith tripped over the doorway to outside.

Lance guessed this was his first time experiencing this type of high.

And if they could make a cigarette of it, rolling up this pure and utterly strange feeling, Keith was sure the entire world would be addicts.

Keith stared at Lance, as he threw his arms up in the air and whooped, a spastic grin on his face. He stared at Lance, and he looked at himself, at how he didn’t feel the need to smoke because he felt higher than he ever had. And he walked up to Lance, feeling the strange feeling infect him, feeling the strange laughter bubble from his mouth.

Lance looked at him then, and seemed to remember something. He quickly moved until he was in front of Keith, and kneeled down.

“What the fuck are you-”

Lance shushed him violently. “Keith Kogane, welcome.” Keith raised an eyebrow.

“To what?”

“To theatre, my friend. To theatre.”  

And fuck, Keith found himself laughing, laughing and laughing and laughing, until Lance stood up, obviously not deterred. The lanky boy easily slipped a friendly arm over Keith’s shoulders, cupping his mouth with his other hand.

“We’ve done it, ladies and gents! We’ve fucking _done it_!” Keith didn’t know what they’d done, but he was so high on the feeling of Lance’s touch, the feeling of acting, of performing and doing well, that he just laughed, letting out a small whoop with Lance’s huge one.

What had they done?

Lance had managed to make Keith, emo and insecure as he was, smile _and_ laugh.

Damn the whole world if that wasn’t something to celebrate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell i love everyone in this stupid show and im also a slut for theatre  
> i know these are long inbetweens for short chapters,, and im trying,i really am im just going through a lot of stuff right now and in general it's been rough.  
> my update schedule is most likely 4-9 days.  
> b u t,  
> i LOVE ALL OF YOU AND THANK YOU TO THE PEOPLE THAT COMMENTED IT MADE MY W E E K WHEN IM IN A DEPRESSIVE EPISODE I READ EM AND CRY A L O T SO T H A N K Y O U A A A
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr!!(pls gib friends): [@simon-says-nothing](https://simon-says-nothing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Playlist for this fic: [here!](https://open.spotify.com/user/shadowedquinn/playlist/3cTWM4m8pO8gMDQYDG1sTt)


	7. isaac gracie

Keith was bored. Irrevocably, unendingly, completely and utterly bored.

It was Saturday, which meant he'd survived his first week at a new school. Survived a week with a new family.

He sighed, rolling over in his bed. The Shiroganes had been doing insane amounts of things to try to make him feel at home, but it still felt..weird. It felt strange to sit around on this extremely plush bed, felt strange to eat dinner at a table. It especially felt strange with the random gifts they were giving him:

_ 'Here's a phone so you can tell us when to pick you up at the end of play practice!' _

_ 'Here's all the textbooks you may ever need!' _

In short, he was restless.

He had to do something to pay them back, or at least, do something so he wasn't useless.

In pursuit of this, he was attempting to tiptoe down the house's massive stairs. This proved difficult, however, as they creaked on every other step.

"Trouble?" Keith flinched. The voice wasn't Shiro, as he'd expected. Instead, Mr. Shirogane stood there.

(He'd tried to get Keith to call him Kaito, but that just felt horribly wrong. Keith was grateful, however, that he hadn't tried to get him to call him Dad.)

"Um, just...Restless." He inwardly cringed at how shaky his voice was.

The man gave a hearty laugh, something he seemed to be very good at. It was strange, comparing it to the stoicism of his previous foster fathers. And..him, but. Keith didn't like to think about that.

"Do you need something to do?" His voice was so strangely warm, Keith thought. It was sort of terrifying, but he knew it wasn't fake. ' _Hunk and him_ _  would get along.'  _ A small smile wormed its way onto his face, and he turned back to his foster parent.

"Yes, please."  

He ended up leading Keith to the garage. Which, to be frank, made Keith's mouth water.

It was absolutely insane. An absolute  _ mess.  _ And Keith fucking loved it. It was a conglomeration of machinery, tools were thrown around haphazardly around a sheet covering something. Probably a project or something. 

He practically skipped into the area, running his hand along his foster mother's car. It was a BMW, obviously new and absolutely gorgeous. 

"Careful, that's her baby." His foster father's voice was laced with laughter. "So you were a car kid?"

"And dinosaurs." Keith replied absently, still entranced.

Soft laughter, before, "Right, of course. You know how to drive?" 

Keith raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't that in my file?"

Kaito's eyes glistened with mirth. "Said you had a motorcycle license, but not a regular one?" He was clearly confused, and Keith refrained from laughing.

"14 years old me didn't want to learn how to drive a car. Wasn't cool enough, I guess." Keith shoved his hands in his pockets. It had been such a long time since he'd rode, he was practically wistful.

"Shit, now I feel like I have to live up to expectation. "

"Nah. This is pretty cool." Keith smiled a small, grateful smile. He wished he was better at expressing emotion, wished he could express how much even the act of bringing him here meant. 

"You know what's cooler?" Kaito sounded excited, the warmth bleeding and mixing with a strange sort of hype. Keith arched an eyebrow. "Driving yourself to school." And in a strangely theatrical flourish, he lifted a sheet off of what Keith had assumed was a project or something.

That's what Keith expected, at least.

Not an insanely beautiful bike, a dark, scarlet color. Not dark leather, beautiful ingenuity, metal practically shining.

Keith was speechless.

Irrevocably, unendingly, completely and utterly speechless. 

"Is it alright..? I started building it when we first read your file at the orphanage; before we even tried the fight for custody."

And suddenly, Keith had words again.

" _ You built this for me?"  _ His voice was wavering, it was hovering in between sound and silence, hovering between normal and broken. Hovering between the urge to cry and the feeling that he didn't deserve any of this.

And abruptly? Warmth.

Not the same heat that came from within, the soft blooms of flame that happened after eating lunch in the heavens, from talking to Shiro.

This was from someone else.

This was a different fire than his own, somehow matching the cadence of his foster dad's voice. If sound could touch, if touches were heard. Right now, he felt they could.

Right now, with a  _ parent's  _ arms around him, with someone that fought for him, with someone that actually  _ wanted him _ ?

He felt like absolutely anything was possible.

\-------

He wasn't allowed to drive her until he passed Kaito's driving test, apparently infinitely more difficult than the standard one. So instead, Shiro was driving him to play practice, blasting the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack as they went.

"Is this really necessary?" Keith felt as if he had to hear ' _ Be our Guest!'  _ one more time, he'd end up breaking Lumiere. Blowing out the bastard's candles, making Chip turn into A Mere Shard.

No, Keith did not enjoy musicals. He also did not enjoy Lance, who, the second he walked into the auditorium, was literally singing ' _ Land of Lola.' _

Lance, admittedly, could sing. Even if it was show tunes, which made Keith want to curse himself and turn into a fucking knife. ' _ Be our Guest! Put our cutlery to the test! In your chest!' _

He was interrupted in the middle of his murderous fantasies by Lance hitting the high note, which, as much as Keith hated it, made his heart stop. ' _ Beautiful.'  _ His mind provided, which, thanks, he could fucking tell.

God, he was gay.

With that note ended Lance's performance, Shay's heartfelt cheering coming shortly after.

He bowed, blowing kisses out to the audience of three.

"I'll be here all night, ladies and gents!"

"So will the rest of us, but not for you." Keith honestly couldn't help it. Lance was just impossibly easy to make fun of. Case in point: Lance's current angry screeching, slender hands flying everywhere in his rage. Keith just ended up zoning out, hearing the occasional 'Mullet' and maybe a few curse words.

In the end, Lance's hands came down, and he huffed.

"Are you even listening?"

"Not even slightly." Honesty was the best policy, right? A few more angry babbles, till Lance eventually flopped onto the stage with a sigh.

"I miss the MT's. Reps suck."

"And they miss you." Lotor muttered darkly, turning the page in his script.

According to Pidge, Lance and Lotor were a lot of the reason the rep/musical rivalry was so fervent. They both always got the leads in each respective play, both were amazing, both wanted to show the other up.

Lance was much more aggressive about it, however. Lotor mostly showed emotion through half-muttered remarks.

Eventually, Allura appeared, clapping her hands angrily as per usual.

"Today we'll start with an acting exercise. To improve cast bonding." Her eyes looked accusingly at Keith and Lance, Lance and Lotor. Shay was the only one who was safe. "Your chemistry on and off the stage is going to be important, so I'm going to make you extremely uncomfortable in order to be comfortable with one another." Another hand clap. Keith was beginning to wonder if she had an obsession. "Keith and Lance are paired,  Shay and Lotor. We'll switch, so don't worry." She was humming. "Sit directly across from one another, but close."

They all obeyed, with much grumbling from Lance. His arms were crossed as he sat in front of Keith, pouting.

To be frank, Keith was confused. They'd gotten along well the other night, what the hell changed so suddenly? He bit his lip. Why was Lance always so fucking confusing?

Allura quickly came over, smacking them both on the head.

"No crossed arms, and no breaking eye contact unless to blink. Our goal here is vulnerability with your cast!"

Oh, great. Keith's strength, really. Especially with his load of trust issues.

But still, he unfolded his arms and looked Lance in the eyes. Lance seemed fairly uncomfortable by this. He was consistently shifting and bouncing his leg up and down. Keith, thrumming his hands on his thighs in a constant beat, could relate.

Lance eyed his moving hands. He leaned in closer, eyes darting towards Allura in fear. 

"Need a stim?"

And honestly, it was the way he said it. He said it like it was a drug deal, like he wasn't saying stim, but, in fact: "Need a quickie?". It was the way he said it that made Keith snort, loudly and violently.

Allura's look of rage? Quite possibly the most terrifying thing Keith had ever experienced.

Lance punched him in the leg once she looked away, surprisingly strong.

"What the fuck?" Keith hissed.

"Why'd you blow my cover?" Lance's angry whisper-yelling somehow didn't make Allura turn around. Keith was in shock.

"Why'd you sound like you were trying to sell me crack?"

"Fucking- Look, do you need a stim?"

Keith just glared at him, rolling his eyes.

"What the hell is a stim?"

"Wow, Mullet, you really are inadequate." He sounded strangely pleased or amused with himself. Keith refrained from strangling him.

"Shut the fuck up, Lance. " Lance didn't reply to this, instead checking to make sure Allura wasn't looking before he grabbed something from his pocket, placing it in Keith's hand.

It was a strange sort of cube, with switches and buttons and things all over it. Keith looked up at Lance, eyebrow arched.

"Just mess with it, man! It's for fidgeting asses like you." Lance huffed at him angrily, still not breaking eye contact per Allura's instructions.

"And yourself." Keith looked pointedly at Lance's bouncing leg.

"Congrats Keithy-boy, you solved the case. What type?" He actually looked genuinely intrigued, strangely enough. It took Keith a moment to understand the other boy's words.

"Uh, predominantly hyperactive-impulsive." Keith mumbled, looking away. Lance just smiled.

"Combination. " Keith just nodded numbly, and they fell silent. As he began to push the arrangement of buttons, he felt himself relax slightly.  _ 'Holy shit, this is amazing.' _ He looked up to thank the other boy, but Lance was frozen.

Allura was staring at them pointedly, as well as Shay and Lotor. How long had they...?

"And that, cast, is the perfect example of what  _ not  _ to do in this exercise.” 

Lance looked decidedly pissed at him, which, by the way? It was  _ Lance’s  _ fault. 

Keith ended up not hearing Allura’s instructions. He was far too busy glaring at Lance. 

 

\-----

 

It was late. It was so fucking late, and yet, here they stood, still trying to figure out a scene. 

Shay and Lotor had gone home a long time ago, leaving Lance, Keith, and Allura to sit here and scream at each other.

Well, really it was just Lance and Keith screaming at each other. 

“What the fuck are you doing with your hands?” This was Keith. 

“You shy, Keith?” Lance’s voice was mocking, having lost most of the charm that he usually had. Being at this for three hours would do that to you. “This is the  _ character _ , Keith. You’re a depressed, angry chick, and I’m the guy that’s here for you. Physical contact is kinda required. _ ”  _

Keith looked over at Allura, who seemed to be regretting her previous statement of: “Until you two get this figured out, no one’s going home.” She was just staring blankly at her script as if it held all the answers. 

He turned back to Lance, crossing his arms. 

“Catherine is the kind of person that would kick a guy’s ass after he told her that she wasn’t smart enough to write something brilliant.” 

“Doesn’t mean she’s not in love with him!” Lance sounded exasperated, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“Just because she has feelings, it wouldn’t change how she reacted to that.” He wasn’t budging.

“Oh my fucking- It was a  _ hug!”  _ Lance got closer, then. Practically spitting in his face. Keith’s stare hardened. 

“Have you read this scene, Lance? It’s not built for hugs.” He looked down at his script, opening his mouth. “‘It’s too bad, the rest of it was really good. All of it:  _ ‘I loved your dad.’ ‘I always liked you.’ ‘I’d like to spend every minute with you... ‘ _ It’s killer stuff. You got laid and you got the notebook! You’re a genius!”’ Lance immediately got back into character, still not breaking eye contact with Keith. 

“You’re giving me way to much credit. I don’t expect you to be happy with me. I just wanted... I don’t know. I was hoping to discuss some of this with you before you left. Purely professional. I don’t expect anything else.” He still had some of the anger before, but it was beginning to melt. Mold into the melancholy that Hal felt in this scene.

In the back of his head, Keith knew it was impressive. But he didn’t show it, and neither did Catherine.

“Forget it.” He was biting, irritated. Before Lance could continue, Allura was talking.

“Keith, skip to ‘So maybe it’s my turn.’” Both he and Lance frowned, staring at her. They were actually acting, for once. Why did she stop them?  

“So maybe it’s my turn. I kick and scream, but I don’t know. Being taken care of, it doesn’t sound so   
bad. I’m tired. And the house is a wreck, let’s face it. It’s my dad’s house .” He adjusted his tone, realizing he was delivering the lines with a harshness that wasn’t called for. Lance looked taken aback as well, but he just bit his lip before speaking.

“Nice house.” 

Keith actually snorted, the dry awkwardness in Lance’s voice matching both the scene and the situation. 

“It’s old.” He murmured. They still hadn’t broken eye contact, and Keith could feel his anger being washed away by the ocean in Lance’s eyes. 

“I guess.” Still with that same dryness, that same soft melancholy. 

“It’s drafty as hell. The winters are rough.” As he spoke, he realized something. 

No, this wasn’t a hug scene. But this sure as hell wasn’t a screaming scene, wasn’t an angry scene. This was soft melancholy, this was the awkward transition between anger and forgiveness. Covered up by small talk. 

He stepped back, broke eye contact. A soft laugh broke him out of it. 

“You get it, Keith?” Allura’s voice broke through, and he turned to her with a nod. Lance seemed extremely confused. Probably because he didn’t need a breakthrough to understand these scenes. 

He just  _ knew.  _

Allura clapped her hands together, as per usual. Except this didn't feel like she was trying to shut them up.  As per usual, she stood with a huge smile on her face. Except this one felt far more genuine.    
“Excellent work, you two. Go home.” 

Lance was sputtering, looking in between Keith and Allura.  

“What? We didn’t get the scene right, wait-” 

Keith walked up to him, chuckling softly. “What are you laughing at?! Keith, I swear to  _ god-” _ But Keith just walked straight past him, towards the door.

“Go home, Lance.”

“Keith, don’t walk through that door-”

The resounding slam from the theatre door just made Lance more confused. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate this chapter a LOT but i needed to get it up, it's terrible and im sorry!! (Five cookies for those who notice me slipping in canon lines like the nerd that I am)
> 
> we're moving past exposition and into actual story so yaayy, im sorry again for how awful this is, guys. but! thank you all so much for commenting and reading! It makes me so happy so thank you all!!   
> huge thank you to my beta as well<333 she's absolutely amazing. 
> 
> My tumblr: [here!](https://simon-says-nothing.tumblr.com/)  
> Playlist for this fic: [here!](https://open.spotify.com/user/shadowedquinn/playlist/3cTWM4m8pO8gMDQYDG1sTt)


	8. Placetamol

Why was the drag of a cigarette calming? What was it about the burn that made his heart slow?

Keith wasn't sure, so he took another drag. Maybe this one would tell him. A few seconds passed, and he sighed. Guess not.

It was Monday night, the only day they had off being Sunday. Allura was working on Shay and Lotor, and maybe Lance. She told him he could leave, but he didn't want to yet. He wasn't really sure why. Maybe so he could smoke? Maybe so he could stay near the auditorium a little longer?

That was probably it, he thought. Sort of pathetic, honestly. ' _I really do get attached too easily.’_

Another drag, hoping to blow away the idea.

The wind had started to pick up, trying it's best to ruin his joint. In his efforts to keep it lit, he didn't really register the door opening behind him.

"You _smoke_?"

Briefly, in the back of his mind, Keith recognized the flare of anxiety. The small voice in a deadpan, stating: " _Well, shit._ "

And yet, he recognized that voice. That wasn't a voice to be afraid of. _'I should probably turn around and explain_.' He thought absently.

Instead, Keith took another drag.

Except, because God hates him, Lance didn't take ignorance for an answer. In less than a second, a face full of angry Cuban was in his  vision.

"That shit can kill you, man."

Keith's response was to blow smoke in his face.

Lance's disgusted coughing was almost worth it. "What the hell?" He rasped out, jumping back. "You're horrible to be around, Mullet."

Keith laughed, smoke puffing from his lips.

"Can't say you're much different."

"I am a motherfucking angel, Keithy-boy." Keith looked up at him, smirking.

"Fallen angel, maybe."

Lance gasped, loudly and dramatically. Since that was what Lance was best at, apparently. Keith brought the cigarette up to his lips again, but when he sucked in, there was nothing there.

"What the fuck?"

Lance held the joint triumphantly, smirking. And in an act of pure malice, he stamped it out beneath his foot.

"Death stick vanquished."

Keith's expression melted from slight amusement to dark irritation.

"I'm going to vanquish _you_ , McClain." His voice was dangerous, fiery.

But he'd forgotten one, extremely important fact: Lance had obnoxiously long legs. He was sprinting, barely an _Eep_! squeaked out before he was gone.

"See thee on the morrow, Mullet!" Lance was already climbing into his shitbox of a car, waving his arm frantically. His voice was panicked, as if when he was anxious his speech naturally reverted into Ye Olden Times.

"Why do you talk like you're in 1482?!" Keith shouted after him, but as the loud, terrible sputtering of Lance's car started, all he got was a shouted reply from halfway down the parking lot.

"Shakespeare lived in the 1600s, dumbass!"

All he heard after that was the sound of Lance's horrible laughter mixing with the horrible sound of his car.

 

 

\-------

 

When Lance walked into his house, he took a deep breath in, preparing.

 _'What will it be today_?' He wondered.

"Veronica?" His voice was strangely wavering, eyes adjusting to the low lighting of his house. It was definitely not high class, barely even middle.

He sighed, walking into their tiny living room. His sister was sitting on the couch, frowning at something on her phone. Veronica was just in the year under him, so they were the closest in age. Also the ones that fought the most, but. They got along well when the situation called for it.

Her hair was an absolute mess, chestnut strands strewn everywhere. She looked pretty much exactly like him, only softer. Long messy hair usually tied up into a bun, but right now it was free. Free to get into his mouth and all over the couch, but. Sometimes you had to pay the price for sibling bonding.

Lance collapsed next to her with a sigh. Veronica just adjusted, leaning against him immediately. They had that sort of easiness.

"Abuela?" Lance questioned softly, staring at their ceiling.

"Asleep." She answered absently, eyes still glued to her phone. Lance raised his eyebrow, leaning over.

"Hot date?" She just shoved a pillow in his face, still not looking away. It was quite a talent.

"Shut up, shithead."

Lance laughed, but it soured at the end.

"How was she today?"

Finally, Veronica's phone clicked off. She turned, propping an arm against the couch.

"Mama said she was lucid in the morning."

He winced.

"Not in the afternoon?" Veronica just smiled sadly.

"She called me an intruding   _jinetera_." Lance snorted against his hand.

"Least she's still herself."

His sister fell back against him with a huff.

"Still a batshit-crazy witch."

He laughed again, a sad, bitter sort of sound.

"I miss her, though." A little more weight, with Veronica resting her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, me too."

It was strange, missing someone who was in the room next to yours.

But that was their normal, lately.

**  
**  
  


\--------

It turned out that Mr. Shirogane had a lot of rules when it came to driving.

And Keith, generally one who said ' _fuck it'_ on a red light, was not doing too well.

They’d been doing this for hours, having started the second Keith got back from play practice. Which was stupid anyways, because he was tired and it was night time. (Not that he actually slept, but.)

His foster dad had brought in Shiro for reinforcement, which really meant Shiro laughing when Kaito yelled at him to slow the hell down after barely going five mph.

Well, maybe it was like 15 when he was supposed to be doing a gentle circle, but. It was still irritating.

After the sixth, 'Do you want to get in an accident?!' Keith snapped.

He threw his helmet onto the bike with a loud groan of irritation.

"I don't know!" He threw his hands up in the air, quickly bringing them back down to rake through his hair. "You're such a perfectionist, I'm never going to be able to ride at this rate!" His voice cracked slightly at never, much to Shiro's amusement.

"Shut up, Shiro!" He hissed through his teeth.

With an irritated huff, he started to storm off.

“Keith, wait.”

‘ _What now_?’ He thought, turning around with a vicious glare. Kaito was smiling at him, weirdly enough.

“What?” Keith bit out, still pissed.

And abruptly, something strange happened. Shiro turned to Kaito with an obnoxious grin on his face, and they fucking _high-fived_. And _cheered._

Keith just stared blankly at them. ‘ _What the fuck_.’ Not a question, but a statement in his head.

They turned to him, laughing even more at Keith’s expression.

Something metal hit his chest, and he caught it with a frown.

The keys.

“Go nuts, son. You know what you’re doing.” His foster dad looked strangely..Happy. It just confused Keith even more.

“What the hell?!” Keith shouted at him angrily, but Shiro just wrapped an arm around him and they turned around, leaving. “Guys? What was all of this _for_ , then?!” He was practically screaming, probably waking up everyone in a five mile radius.  

Shiro apparently took pity on him, and turned around.

“Just trying to crack the awkward politeness, kid.” He burst out into almost witch-like cackling when Keith’s face contorted.

“You _bastards_!”

But they didn’t pay any mind, just walking back into the house.

Shiro, that bastard, was _whistling_.

‘ _I hate this family_.’ Keith thought angrily, climbing onto his bike.

(He was lying.)

**  
**  
  
  


\------

**  
**  


Lance woke up to the sound of an engine revving. Which, to be honest, pissed him off.

He hated those kinds of people.

And yeah, maybe that hate was multiplied by the fact that it was around 2 AM, and he’d fallen asleep on the couch with Veronica. Of course Veronica didn’t wake up. She didn’t sleep like the dead. She slept like if she woke up, she would die.

It was much worse.

He disentangled himself from her, not even carefully. What would be the point?

Their house was next to a mini-sort of intersection. Really, some idiot decided to place a single traffic light, dangling pathetically from the stop sign. Lance theorized it was a teen, but he didn’t know where it came from for sure. All the other traffic lights in town were in place.

It was a common known fact that the light never changed from red, which wasn’t usually a problem. No one that wasn’t local drove through this neighborhood. Except for this asshole who decided to drive through here didn’t seem to understand. He was just stopped.

Lance smirked, swinging his door open.

“Hey, man. Your dick isn’t going to grow, even if you revv that thing louder. It’s a shocker, I know.”

 Lance had a special sort of hatred for straight frat boys like this, because that used to be him.

So he spent every opportunity to tear them down.

It was part of his charm, really.

The guy was riding an admittedly beautiful bike, a dark red color. He had a helmet that was the same color, which, while Lance appreciated the color coordination, it still didn’t fix the fact that he was an asshole.

This was further proved by when he didn’t even respond to Lance’s jibe, just spoke in a gruff, irritated voice:

“Does this light ever change?”

Lance decided that he didn’t deserve to know the truth, so he leaned against his doorway and lied dryly.

“Give it time.”

Another groan of frustration, and something clicked. He recognized that raspy, irritated voice.

“Who are you?” He pretty much demanded, arms crossed.

Once again, the boy didn’t answer. Instead, he just revved his engine again.

“Are you fucking serious-” Lance put his head in his hands. It was not the night for this much bullshit.

“No one’s here.” The ass stated, and Lance wanted to punch him.

“Astute observation, dickwad.”

But he didn’t seem to hear Lance’s absolute mastery of insults, just revved his engine again. In a flash of red, the boy was gone, rushing off down the street to annoy some other sleep-deprived soul.

“Yeah, fuck you too, man!” He screamed into the night, arms waving around angrily. “I hope he crashes and dies.” Lance stated, for himself. It was a strange comfort, some way of getting out his pent up frustration.

Yeah, he didn’t really know either.

In the end, he ended up falling asleep on the porch. He was trying to keep a lookout for when that ass came back, but he forgot to factor in that he was desperately sleep-deprived.

In about five minutes, he was sleeping like if he woke up, he would die, too.

**  
**  
  


\------

**  
**  


When Keith looped back around at around 5 AM, he stopped at the pathetic traffic light again.

And he looked at the boy that had been screaming at him, (now crumpled in a pile on the ground), and burst into laughter.

“Night, Lance.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keith, climbing on top of the fridge: tHIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE
> 
> shitpost shirogane is canon, change my mind   
> Jinetera means prostitute/whore my spanish is shit please tell me if it’s wrong p l s  
> Huge thanks to everyone that comments, it honestly makes me so happy and think people are actually enjoying what i’m doing so thank you so so much <333
> 
> HUUUGE THANKS TO MY AMAZING BETA: @caribouscreams!  
> love you all so so much<333
> 
> come scream at me on tumblr: (i’m on mobile so can’t link kms) @simon-says-nothing


	9. The Mountain Goats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance turned bleary, sleepy eyes onto Keith, his hands raising up slightly as if to protect himself from Keith's rage.
> 
> "Whoa, buddy. It's way too early for our rivalry." He rubbed at his eyes, clearing out the sleep dust and scratching at the intense bed head.
> 
> Cute.

_'Lance, I fucking hate you.'_

Keith thought, opening his phone to the stream of texts.

 **Obnoxious:** hey mullet

 **Obnoxious:** heyheyheyheyhey

 **Me:** I regret ever giving you my number. It's fucking three in the morning, what do you want?

 **Obnoxious:** we gotta talk proof

 **Obnoxious:** besides proof that ur a loser, we already proved that

 **Obnoxious:** the play proof

 **You:** I figured that from the start, but ok. What do you need?

 **Obnoxious:** you gotta stop being so emo on stage

 **Obnoxious:** kills my vibe

 **You:** Too bad it didn't kill the actual you.

 **Obnoxious:** oUCH

 **Obnoxious:** besides that actually DETRIMENTAL blow, srsly

 **You:** Lance. Catherine is severely depressed.

 **Obnoxious:** speakin of miss catty

 **Obnoxious:** you gonna be a boy or cross dress

Keith audibly groaned at this. Lance was pretty, but jesus  _fuck_ if he wasn't a straight-boy-stereotype. It pissed him off.

 **You:** Worried about your fragile masculinity?

 **Obnoxious:** uh,, my masculinity is as strong as frickin' shiros arms

 **You:** Sure. And I was thinking of being a boy, but eyeliner sounds fun.

 **Obnoxious:** ssdlkfhalsdghalsdfhalhsflkdjsh

 **You:** Are you having a  seizure?

Lance, way back in his own, comfortable bed, wanted to die. ' _Boyswithmakeupboyswithmakeupboyswithmakeup-'_

Fuck, he was weak.

 **MulletMan(takemebythehandOOHH):** Lance?

 **Me:** ur gonna have to wear makeup either way it's a play dumbass

 **MulletMan(takemebythehandOOHH):** Hell yeah.

Lance, overcompensation Supreme™ as he was, decided to jab at the poor, unsuspecting emo.

 **Me:** hey keef

 **MulletMan(takemebythehandOOHH):** Keith*

 **Me:** u gonna wear raccoon ass eyeliner

 **Me** : yknow

 **Me:**  cos ur emo

 **MulletMan(takemebythehandOOHH):**...

 **Me:**  keef the beef

 **MulletMan(takemebythehandOOHH):** What the actual fuck

 **Me** : you gonna cry if i play the g note next to you

 **Me:**  you gonna cry

 **Me** : dUHHHHHHNNNNN

 **Me** : you cryin

 **Me** : keef?

 **Me:**  mullet?

 **Me:**  gerard way n brendon urie's love child?

_This user is no longer active._

\---

 

The next morning, Keith was dropping down next to Pidge in their usual morning place under the stairwell.

Before even a greeting, he was talking.

"How does Lance manage to be even more annoying over text? He's not even  _talking_ but it's like his voice just fucking- echoes  _through_ his texts. Seriously, what the fuck?"

Pidge, currently popping open a Rockstar, clearly didn't-have-time-for-this-shit as they downed half the can in one huge gulp; before setting it down with a loud  _clang._

"Welcome to hell. We have no way of escape." Their voice was raspy, along with dark eye bags that just overall added to the effect. Looks like it was another sleepless night for them. 

"Was he up bothering you too?"

"Nah, that courtesy goes to vine. May she forever rest in peace." And really, this was why Keith loved Pidge so much.

There wasn't any confusion.

There was just mutual hatred of the system, love of cryptids, and shitposts. Truly a calming presence.

 

They mostly continued bitching about Lance until Hunk appeared, still looking like an angel despite the time of day. He was carrying muffins, and Keith just fell in love with him a little more.

Everyone's thoughts on Hunk were pretty universal:  _'What a fucking blessing.'_

So of course, in the fairly normal stream of fantastic people, Lance had to show up.

With the nerve of stating, quite loudly: "I'm so fucking tired."

Keith, suffice to say, was going to strangle him.

"Maybe you wouldn't be so tired if you stopped bothering people at three o-fucking clock!"

Lance turned bleary, sleepy eyes onto Keith, his hands raising up slightly as if to protect himself from Keith's rage.

"Whoa, buddy. It's way too early for our rivalry." He rubbed at his eyes, clearing out the sleep dust and scratching at the intense bed head.

_Cute._

Yet another thought from the part of Keith's mind he was trying to banish. Lance was a straight frat boy, anyways. So he has nice skin and pretty eyes and fluffy hair and-

_God, I'm gay. I am so fucking gay._

Not for Lance, though. He was just able to appreciate an attractive person. Nothing else to it. 

His daily stream of gay thoughts was interrupted by Lance's happy shriek.

"Oh my god, Hunk." Lance had  _tears_ in his eyes, clutching what looked like coffee.

"Pussy." Pidge contributed, cracking open yet another energy drink and taking a swig.

Keith sat back, watching all of them with something akin to wonder in his eyes. It was strange, only having been to this school for two weeks. He already felt like he'd known these people for years. Like Pidge and Lance, currently yelling at each other over coffee versus energy drinks; Hunk making eye contact with Keith and smiling apologetically. As if he cared. It all felt like a routine, by now. Social anxiety was hard to come by when Pidge was burping into Lance's face, when Hunk was snorting behind his hand.  When Lance's grin stretched across his entire face, and he turned to make sure Keith was smiling, too. How all of them would turn, and grin. All of them trying to say: "This is us. You're with us."

Hunk looked apologetic, but what would he  _ever_  apologize for? Keith was just fucking thankful.

The daily bout of introspection was stopped by the loud ringing of their bell, practically violent. It was the type of noise that made you physically vibrate. That's how overly loud their stupid bell was.

His first hour, history with Coran and Pidge, wasn't very bad. In fact, he sort of loved Coran's way of teaching. It was so loud and moving that it actually kept him engaged, kept him staring. Which was quite the feat.

Plus, Pidge made it a point to talk to him middle school style via sending paper airplane notes to him. Ever since Coran moved the two of them, they'd started this practice.

For some reason, they had the exact ratio or something down so the airplanes they made  _always_ landed right on Keith's desk. Obviously, their genius wasn't being wasted.

His most recent airplane note was a shitty drawing of Coran wearing goggles, screaming ' _It is Wednesday my dudes'_

Underneath it was Pidge's tiny, blocky handwriting:  _This vine but with Coran's accent._

Keith had to muffle his snorts, but he quickly scribbled his reply: A tiny drawing of Coran with wings, squawking at the sky. ' _The ultimate cryptid.'_

When he folded it up and sent it back, however, he didn't have the same finesse as Pidge. In fact, it went the opposite way: Right into the back of Coran's head.

"Ah! A surprise attack! Much like the Nazi's next move!" Is all he said, without even turning around. Just..continued scribbling a terrible diagram of WW2.

Pidge made direct eye contact and, with the utmost of serious expressions, mouthed:  _'What a fucking legend.'_

Keith had to agree.

 

\-----

 

Lance had started to find new ways to delay getting home.

Walking around the school listening to classics. Grabbing food at the cafe a few blocks away from the school. Or, usually, just walking.

Letting the sounds of Freddie and Elton lure him to a good headspace as he traveled, Allura having taken the day off of play practice so she could have a 'Date night with her boys.'

Lance knew one of them was Shiro, but the whole school was in a conspiracy over who the other was. Pidge seemed to know something, but they refused to budge.

Besides wondering about the various love situations of his teachers, Lance had ended up in a strange, tiny park.

He was fairly sure the town had tried to make this a nature-viewing area at one point, but had given up once buying the land and putting in a pond. He visited sometimes, bringing fish food for the poor koi left alone but still standing strong. However, this time, someone else was there.

Keith sat on a rock next to the pond, and for a moment, Lance stopped breathing.

His hair was tied up in a ponytail, wearing just a red tank top and sweats. The bangs left in his face had fallen in front of his eyes, and he was bathed in the sunset's orange light. A mix of reds mixing together, only really differentiated by the dark tint of blue coming from the pond. But it wasn't really his appearance that stopped Lance.

Keith clearly had earbuds in, looking at the koi swimming around. And softly, barely there, he was singing.

_And I am healthy_

_And I am whole_

_But I have poor impulse control._

_And I wanna go home_

_But I am home._

The thing about Keith's voice was that it was clearly not meant for musicals.

It wasn't the type of beautiful Lance knew.

It was a slight rasp, and yet impossibly soft. It was barely there, and yet strong.

_We are filled with riches and wonders._

_Our love keeps the things it finds_

_And we dance like drunken sailors lost at sea._

_Out of our minds._

How could someone so angry produce something so..bittersweet?

He had the rasp of an alto, but the lightness of a tenor. The rumble of a bass, but the sweet sounds of a soprano.

He was an impossible mixture, with no rhyme or reason. He was just..singing.

Keith would never be cast in a musical, no.

But Lance wanted to listen to him for ages.

The soft push and pull, the overall melancholy streaming from his voice. It was hypnotizing.

Except for when Lance stepped on a twig, and everything shattered.

Keith was immediately up, looking defensive. Lance, with absolutely nowhere to hide, leaned against a tree. ' _Act natural, McClain. Natural.'_

Of course, this attempt lasted about as long as it took for Keith to stalk towards him, fire burning in violet eyes.

"Lance. How long have you been standing there?"

"Pff...Not long, yknow..just..chillin'."

He was panicking. His straight guy voice was in full force, as if he was trying to get a cute, gullible girl.

Except this wasn't a cute girl.

This was Keith Kogane, a boy made of fire. And currently?

Lance was fairly sure he was going to burn.

Keith looked like a strange mixture of supremely pissed off and embarrassed. Lance sort of paused, not knowing what to do. They seemed to be at a standstill.

"Keith..?"

And honestly, Lance should have seen it coming.

But no, he was an idiot, who was now howling in pain and curled up in a ball on the floor.

" _What the fuck?"_

Keith at least had the decency to look slightly ashamed, angry/embarrassed flush spreading across his entire face.

"You startled me! And you're a fucking creep!"

 ** _"_** _YOU_ KNEED _ ****ME IN THE DICK!"_

Keith just huffed, looking away. The flush still rode high on his cheeks. Lance, even in his state of severe pain and anger, still managed to stare. 

 A hand was being extended towards him. Lance took it, eyes widening in surprise. He rose to his feet on wobbly legs, and the fact that he was still in visceral pain made him angry all over again.  And immediately, he punched Keith's arm.

"I could've deserved that," Was Keith's response. Completely deadpan.

Which, what the fuck?

" _Could've?_ I should have cut your dick off, see how you like it."

"That's an exaggeration, and besides. You were spying on me."

"I was  _not._ " Lance bluffed for a second, "I was trying to get some evidence that Gerard and Brendon banged and had you. For the emos." He saluted, and Keith rolled his eyes.

"What a swell guy." His voice dripped with sarcasm. Lance, being Lance, simply ignored it.

"I sure am, Keef the Beef."

Said beef just buried his head in his arms and groaned.

"I hate you so much."

"Likewise, Mullet." Keith didn't raise his head, just moved one of his arms and flipped him off.

Ah, the charm. When Keith continued to not speak, Lance figured he should probably go home. Probably. "Till next time, O' violent one."

The middle finger remained raised, and Lance was laughing the entire way home.

 

\-----

 

The sound of screaming from inside made him break into a sprint.

When he made it inside the house, he remembered why he tried so hard to stay out of it.

Abuela was throwing things again.

" _Who are you people?!_ Jineteras _, get out of my house! Mama!"_  She was shrieking, and Lance took a deep breath.

"Abuela. " He had to work to keep his voice steady.

She turned wildly, frowning. "I'm too young to be anyone's Abuela. Who are you?!"

Lance was usually the best at handling her. He didn't break down as easily at the sight of his grandmother telling him he was a stranger. Telling him to leave her the fuck alone.

He saved the pain from it till he was alone.

"You're safe." Always how he started. This was routine, lately.

From how she was acting, Lance assumed she thought she was around 17. Somewhere in the teen years. He was best at calming her during that time, usually.

Calmly, he smiled at her. "Who are you going to the dance with?"

A question he's asked so many times he's memorized the answer.

A dopey, boy crazy smile stretching across wrinkles. With her, he mouthed,

"Marco from science. He has the prettiest blue eyes."

It was always Marco, his grandfather. Marco, who they'd named his little brother after. Marco from science. He had the prettiest blue eyes.

Lance was just glad they'd shut before seeing the love of his life like this.

Juanita from science: 63. She had the prettiest brown eyes.

She also had Alzheimer's.

 

 

\----

 

It was three in the morning, and Keith was still awake. 

He had been texting Pidge, but they left to go binge some alien documentaries. But he was still here, eyes practically hurting from staying open for so long. 

And yet he couldn't bring himself to close them. 

From his pocket, his phone buzzed.  _Who..?_

 **Obnoxious:** isn't it weird how you can love and hate things all at the same time

 **Obnoxious:** life is so fucking strange

 **You:** Lance, are you okay? 

 **Obnoxious:** you should sing more often

 **You:** Lance? 

 

_This user is no longer active._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keith: oh lance is such a fuccboi wowowowow  
> Lance: *crying over elton john and stroking a picture of david bowie* b o y s  
> iF YOU WANNA HEAR WHAT I KINDA HEADCANON KEITH SOUNDING LIKE IN THIS AU: [anthony amorim!!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?reload=9&v=ub2fQPp_UtY)  
> oOF i know guys i know it's been so long and im su p e r sorry!! im so bad at updating actually kill me
> 
> the biggest reason why it took so long this time is because 1, life has been rough lately but 2, aaa i dont wanna be that person but somtimes i just kinda feel like no one cares 2much abt this fic haha, i mean it's dumb cause i have overwhelming hits and comments for my shitty writing but IDK  
> i wanna have a huge shoutout to VinVictory and 0IamAxel0 (I HOPE I WROTE EM RIGHT) because they're here commenting every chapter and it actually makes me c r y, comments really help me feel validated and i just wanna give a huge thanks. 
> 
> anyways, thanks to the usual suspects of EVERYONE and @caribouscreams, my amazing beta!  
> tumblr: [@simon-says-no](https://simon-says-nothing.tumblr.com/)  
> playlist for this fic: [ here!](https://open.spotify.com/user/shadowedquinn/playlist/3cTWM4m8pO8gMDQYDG1sTt)


	10. Elton John

So apparently this was going to be part of their schedule. Every single night.

On the dot, 3 AM.

 **Obnoxious** : hey   
**Obnoxious** : you ever think about chickens  
 **Obnoxious** : we always coo over baby chicks but then we eat them  
 **Obnoxious** : isn't that fucking strange  
 **You** : Night, Lance.  
 **Obnoxious** : night keith

The next morning, when Lance plopped down next to him, the first thing he said was this: "You think about it?"

"It's pretty fucked." Keith replied.

A small, satisfied smile.  
Keith felt he would have endless debates over the most ridiculous of things to see that smile.

\----

Rep was exhausting.

It was a completely different type of exhausting than musicals.  
In musicals, your throat burned, your legs ached and your core felt like it was on fire from belting for so long.

In Rep, it was your head that hurt. From thinking so deeply about every single line that you were spitting out.  
From trying to decipher why your character was doing everything he was doing in that exact moment.  
It hurt. Lance could barely focus on eating lunch, how was he supposed to juggle all of this?

Keith varied between helping and being completely and utterly useless.  
Always an enigma, that one.

"You awake, Lance?"   
Currently, it seemed he had decided to be useless. A hand on his hip, playful smirk, humor glistening in violet eyes.

Lance had to take a brief moment to center his brain away from loud, pained screaming.

"Never been better." He inwardly cringed at how his voice shook slightly. One of Keith's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, but Lance just stuck his tongue out.

The proper response to threats.

The rest of the rehearsal consisted mainly of Keith and Lotor scenes.

Lotor played a..strange Robert.

In the videos Lance had seen online, Robert was at once a genius but also relaxed. He was funny, a tad tortured, but ultimately he wasn't a forced or awkward character. He was very much a dad, kind hearted with dry jokes.

So watching Lotor, king of the preps, attempt it?   
Lance was trying to fight down laughter at the amount of times Allura stopped the scene.

"Lotor, this isn't the king of England you're talking to. It's your daughter. Drop the accent."

Lotor seemed a tad at a loss. Especially considering Allura's own voice.   
"Ms, I can't just..drop my accent."

Allura then looked him straight in the eye, and began talking in a loud, exaggerated American accent. "We have a vocal coach."

Lotor just..looked aghast. He barely managed a dumbstruck nod.  
Lance always loved watching those two interact.  
It seemed that Allura was the only one able to make Lotor fall silent.

Keith was idly tapping his foot, arms crossed in his usual 'I'm Uncomfortable' position. Lance wandered over to him, a smirk on his lips.

"You bored, Keithy-boy?"

Keith immediately recognized the challenge in his voice, and he turned with a smirk.  
"You got a suggestion?"

Always the enigma, but always the most interesting. With Keith Kogane, it seemed there was never a dull moment.

"You wanna see the rest of the heavens?"

An eyebrow, quirked. Violet eyes flashing.

"Don't we eat lunch there everyday?"

Lance rolled his eyes at this.

"On the safe part. What, you scared?"

"With you leading me? Terrified." And yet, Keith's voice didn't sound like it. He sounded..alive. Like he lived for this, for the give and the take. For the smirks exchanged in secret, for the hint of danger.

Lance felt fascinated by those eyes, alight with so many different thoughts,emotions.

"Stay here till Allura's gone?" He tried to mask the hope in his voice, but it looked like Keith caught it anyways. The boy's smirk just grew.

"See you in heaven, Lance."

And God, by the look in those eyes?

Lance felt like he was already there.

\-----

It turned out Allura took an extremely long time locking everything up.

And by that posed a very large problem: the lock.

Lance had been too caught up in looking at Keith, in exchanged smirks and losing himself in dark eyes. It wasn't his fault, okay? He meant to talk to Allura, ask if he could stay longer to 'practice'.

It just..slipped his mind.

So when Keith, approaching with the cool, interested aura from before, raised his eyebrow at him?

Lance just groaned, banging his head against the door.

"I..forgot to ask for the key."

The sound that came after this, however? Lance felt like maybe the humiliation was worth it.  
Keith was snorting, a hand over his mouth as he tried to cover up genuine laughter.

"Move over, dumbass."

Keith knelt down, fishing something out of his pocket. When he procured a bobby pin, Lance laughed.

"Oh my god, you're such a stereotype. You're going to pick the lock? Wearing a leather jacket, with your mullet and your scowl." He just laughed even harder at Keith's hardened expression.

"Fuck off, like you can say anything."

Lance stopped laughing abruptly.   
"What are you trying to say?"

Keith stopped picking for a moment to look up at him, eyebrow practically raised to his hairline.

"Oh come on, Lance. Snapback, loose jeans, vans. Tank tops that say dumb shit like 'Sun's Out Gun's Out'. You're such a classic fuck boy, it's almost painful." His voice was in the ultimate deadpan. Like what he was saying was the most obvious thing in the world.

Lance gasped, as if he was physically hurt by Keith's words.

" _Excuse_ me, Mullet?! I am _not_ a fuck boy."  
Keith didn't look up from his work, just asked:  
  
"How many girls have you flirted with in the past week?"

  
When Lance didn't answer, Keith just smirked slightly.

"Exactly. Grade A fuck boy."

Lance huffed, sitting down next to Keith.

  
"Yeah? Well you're just an emo stereotype. What's your tragic backstory, Gerard?" His voice twisted in amusement.

Keith just remained silent, the only sound being the click-clack of the bobby pin rustling in the lock.

"Aw, c'mon Keith. Too personal?"

In a complete and utter monotone, tired voice, Keith spoke.   
"Mom left, Dad's dead. Foster kid. "

Lance fell silent. "Keith, I.."

"Shut up, Lance." He didn't sound angry, just..tired. So, extremely tired.

Which was when the lock finally clicked open, the door swinging wide. Keith stood up, brushing dirt from his knees.   
"C'mon, fuckboy."

Lance had no choice but to follow.   
—

Once inside, Lance approached Keith.   
"Hey, man. I'm..sorry, about-"

  
Keith just cut him off.  
"Drop it."  
  
He moved past Lance, whistling at the dark lighting.  
The theatre when abandoned was..interesting. It gave off the aura of something that both invited you and trapped you. Keith, as with most things theatre lately, was immediately intrigued.

  
"What'd you want to show me?" He called over to Lance.  
  
Lance seemed a tad down, like he had to tip toe around Keith. It was irritating, to say the least. But he still approached, fake bravado in full force.  
  
"Prepare to have your mind blown. " His voice still rang with slight hesitance, despite his clear attempt to brush it off. Keith just rolled his eyes.

"Better be in pieces."

He followed the taller boy, feeling strange at the awkward silence.  
Usually, with Lance, there would be loud exaggerations, proud declarations. But tonight he was quiet, fingers wringing together at random times.  
  
Keith was terrible at reading people, but he could at least tell when someone was anxious.  
"Lance."  
  
The other boy turned, raising his eyebrow. And yet, his lip almost..trembled slightly.

' _He's so easy to read.'_ Keith thought, stopping entirely. He crossed over to Lance.

  
"I'm over it. The parents thing. So don't.." He trailed off, frowning. Why were words so hard?

"Don't lose sleep over it." The final result was gruff, almost angry sounding. It went to show just how great Keith was at monitoring tone.  
  
But Lance didn't seem bothered. He actually smiled, a strange, crooked smile.  
  
"Gotcha. "  
  
How did he just..know? No one understood what Keith meant. He came off as too mean, too rough, too angry. But Lance just turned around, now whistling. Like absolutely nothing had happened.  
  
If there was one thing Keith wasn't used to, it was mutual understanding.  
  
He was broken out of his thoughts by Lance gesturing to the ladder they usually took to where they ate. Both of them quickly climbed up, standing on the familiar piece of plywood.  
  
"What now?" Keith asked, and Lance grinned.  
  
"Now's where it gets interesting. Remember when Hunk freaked out when you tried to walk along the grid? 'Cause yknow..they're too weak or whatever?" Keith nodded along to Lance's words.  
"Well, there's a way. Just follow me."  
  
And Lance practically leapt onto the thin metal bars, balancing perfectly. He reached out his hand to Keith, the cocky grin of someone who knew exactly what he was doing painted across his features. Keith just smacked the hand away, following him easily. With slightly less grace, but.

He refused to give anything. This grid seemed to have turned into a playing field, after all.  
  
And Keith wasn't going to back down. When Lance had approached him earlier, a challenge had been in his eyes. It seemed this was it.  
  
Lance continued, walking along the creaking metal as if it was nothing but a sidewalk. Something to simply stroll across.  
A smirk found its way onto Keith's face, following the taller boy quickly.

Without turning around, Lance spoke, "You scared back there?"

"Yeah, right." Keith's voice was practically adamant.

"Just checking on ya."  
The teasing lilt to Lance's voice made Keith roll his eyes.

"Where are we going, Lance?"  
A glance backwards, blue eyes glimmering with mirth.

"Didn't I say? Heaven, Keith."

Keith didn’t really have a response for that, instead just sighing lightly and continuing to walk. They seemed to be off the stage, now.

 _How far does this thing go?_   
Keith wondered, until Lance abruptly stopped. It was abrupt enough that Keith ended up slamming into his back, which, _not_ a good thing when you were this high up.

Lance made a high pitched squeak at the feeling of Keith slamming into him, turning around with an accusatory gaze.  
“What the hell, man?”

Keith’s face naturally dropped into a glare. “You can’t just stop with no warning, asshole.”

Lance made a dismissive hand gesture, just turning back around. “Not important, Mullet. We’re here. “  
He walked over to another plywood-platform, but this one was different. There was a camera, pointing down at the rest of the auditorium. But next to it, there was all sorts of lighting equipment, along with-  
“Is that a radio?” Keith sounded almost flabbergasted.

Lance smirked. “It tunes in to the best radio ever, as well as listening to behind stage. It’s technically supposed to be for   
techies so they know what the hell’s going on down there, but it’s sorta just turned into a place where Pidge goes when they get sensory overload. No one else knows about it ‘scept me and a few other techies, mainly Hunk.” He grinned, walking over to a shadowed area. Keith followed, eyes alight in wonder.

What he didn’t expect was actual, literal _beanbags_.

"What the fuck? How is this even stable?” He sputtered, turning.   
Lance just laughed, walking until he stood next to him.

“Keith, our theatre’s grid is strong enough to hold almost a metric ton of lights and shit. Two tired teenagers and chairs? Nothing.”   
With that, Lance sank into one of the bags, gesturing for Keith to join him.

“So this is heaven?” Keith asked, warily sitting.

Lance laughed. “Not what you expected?”

“I expected you were going to shove me off the grid and watch me fall to my death.” Keith stated, fairly neutrally.  
Another bright, infectious laugh.

“As fun as that sounds, nah. You’re part of this shit now.” Lance gestured to no particular place.

“This shit?” Keith questioned.

Lance just shrugged. “Yknow. Us. “

For some reason, when Lance said us, Keith’s heart sped up.

“Us..?”

“Christ, are you really that dense? The group. This theatre.” Lance’s voice seemed almost..carefully neutral. “Congratulations, McMullet. You’re also a disastrous theatre kid. Welcome to the secret place for anxious teens.” He said it all very grandly, as if presenting. Keith smiled slightly.

“Gotta say, it’s surprisingly quiet for heaven.”  He said, surprised when Lance snorted.

“It’s not heaven yet, Keith.” And Lance stood up, going towards the radio. After pressing a few buttons, a tinny voice cut through the silence.

 _She packed my bags last night_  
Zero hour, nine AM  
And I’m gonna be high as a kite by then.

Keith looked at Lance in surprise. “This is Elton John.”

Lance was already singing along under his breath, voice soft. But he turned, eyebrow raised.

  
“Uh, duh. I said the best radio ever. It’s gotta play the best musical artist in history.”

Keith blinked. ‘ _What_?’ He expected..well, expected Shakira. Maybe Beyoncé. Not this, not Lance softly singing along to Rocket Man, not the smile of someone who knew every word.

 _And I think it’s gonna be a long long time, touch down brings me round again to find_  
I’m not the man they think I am at home.  
Oh no, no, no I’m a rocket man.

And sitting there, watching the boy he’d pegged as an overly-confident fuckboy, singing along to Elton John?

Keith felt a sharp, abrupt pain.   
Staring at this boy, messy hair curled around his ear, eyes closed in bliss as he sang.  
Keith felt his heart swell in the painful way. Felt a rush of emotion besides the fact that Lance was pretty.

He knew already that Lance was attractive. What he sort-of knew but didn’t really acknowledge was this.

The dark orange of the house lighting somehow making his angular face look impossibly soft. The sound of Lance’s voice, stunningly beautiful mixed in between the threads of Elton’s. The light upturn of his lips, eyes fluttering shut.

Keith wanted to run his thumb along those lips, wanted to card his fingers through chestnut hair.

And right then, he knew. He figured it out.

‘ _Fuck_.’

Keith had a crush on Lance McClain, irritant extraordinaire.

Completely oblivious, Lance continued to sing along.

_And it’s gonna be a long, long time.  
_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaa it's been forever but actually for good reason!!  
> my wifi has been blocking ao3 bc of a family filter but! Good news! This summer ill be attending a theatre camp where i can write in between rehearsals so fEAR NOT
> 
> aLso all the comments last chapter made me so happy tvgevrhbbgbgrevg thankyouallsomuch
> 
> im on mobile so can't link but come scream with me on tumblr abt that S6 TRAILER @simon-says-nothing !


	11. nothing but thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AAA IK ITS BEEN FOREVER
> 
> dISCLAIMER: i do not own the dialogue between keith and lance whenever they are doing a scene from the play proof by david auburn

Another night, another late drive. Another stop at the pathetic excuse for a stop light, always on red.

 

This time, however, he couldn't sleep because of the person cursing at him from a window.

 

Look, Keith was weak. 

 

"Will you ever stop being an asshole? There's this great thing called  _sleep_ , and you're taking it from me." Lance's voice carried, and Keith looked up, helmet still on.

 

He briefly wondered how long it would be until Lance figured out Keith was the one keeping him from his precious beauty sleep. For now, it'd be a fun game to play.

 

So instead of replying, Keith flipped him off.

 

Lance's angry screaming was lost in the sound of his engine. 

 

But the sound of Keith's laughter?

 

That stayed. 

 

 

\----

 

"Biggest musical bop? Not even from a fuckin' musical."

 

It was 8 AM, and Lance was already making declarations. Pidge turned to Keith, voice dropped in mirth. 

 

"He's going through musical withdrawals." 

 

"Tragic." Keith drawled, eyeing Lance.

 

Realizing he had a crush was simultaneously manageable and positively hellish. As Lance gestured and grinned, hair still messy from sleep and his skin glowing from a no doubt rigorous skincare schedule.. 

 

_'I'm so fucking gay.'_

 

"'Ready as I'll Ever Be' from the Tangled series. Ultimate bop." Lance was still ranting, around the point where Keith would throw in a lazy comment or an insult but now? 

It felt like the best he could do was stare.

 

"Isn't that like, a Disney Jr. show?" Hunk interjected, eyebrow raised.

Lance pointed at him excitedly. 

 

"Yes! That's the crazy part!" His voice seemed to rise an octave when passion was involved.

 

Keith couldn't help but watch him. Observe. His eyes were so naturally drawn to Lance, how he moved, spoke, etc. Lance was a burst of color in the midst of gray, someone everyone couldn't help but be enthralled with. 

 

They continued to discuss the merits of Disney Jr. Songs and such until the bell rang, dismissing them to their classes.

 

Keith watched as Lance shouted more random facts and details as he walked away backwards. This, of course, led to Lance crashing into a poor, unwitting freshman and taking both he and the kid down.

 

Keith couldn't hold in his snorts, laughing at Lance's panicked, "I'm sorry! Oh my god, I am so sorry-" 

 

The freshman seemed to be a sort of punk, just huffing and rising to his feet before storming off. Lance looked pitiful, scrambling with the mess of papers around him.  

"Fuck, fuck fuck  _fuck-"_

Butwhen he looked up, a hand was there. Connected to it was Keith, a small smirk playing at his lips. Violet eyes sparkling with mirth.

 

"Lance McClain: professional bulldozer." The same sarcastic drawl from before, but now there was something else.

 

Something soft. Something..fond. 

 

Lance shook it off, grabbing the hand in front of him. In his head chimed unnecessary details: Callused fingertips, soft palm. Scars scattered across pale skin.

 

"T-thanks." He stuttered, looking away, but still rising to his feet. 

 

"No problem." Keith spoke, voice a tad rough. 

 

Lance let go of his hand quickly, trying to ignore the light flush dusting both he and Keith's cheeks. It didn't mean anything; Keith's blushing, that is. People blush for weird reasons all the time. For example, it was painfully hot in the hallway. Or maybe it was just Lance's cheeks. Or something. 

 

Lance was sure it had absolutely nothing to do with him. 

 

Why would it?

 

 

\----

 

 

Play practice was going to be intense today, it seemed. It began with improv games that Keith was absolutely horrible at, but Lance had down to a science. 

 

Anything anyone threw at him, Lance would nod and go with it. 

He was fascinating to watch, the way his face never broke even when Allura shouted, "You're attempting to convince your band teacher the mii theme is the greatest piece of music created."

 

Lance would just nod and jump right in. Keith studied him, a soft curiosity filling his features. How did he do that?

 

No hesitation. Like thoughts and overthinking just flew out the window, he could just nod and go. It was impressive, to say the least. 

 

Keith sighed, leaning back a little and letting his focus drift from the current improv game. His eyes naturally floated towards the rafters, towards the place with beanbags and a radio hidden among expensive equipment. Towards memories of Lance, his voice, absolutely gorgeous as it was, softly singing along to 'Rocket Man.' Towards the look on his face, the pure and strange bliss bathed in shadows and strange points of light.

 

Before long, Keith was completely zoned out in his gay thoughts. So much so that when Lance tapped him on the shoulder, he, Keith Kogane, emo extraordinaire, genuinely  _squeaked._ He leapt back a few feet as if he were a startled, hissing cat. 

 

And Keith  _was_  practically hissing, the closest a human could get to hackles raised and thin slits for eyes. Lance burst out into incredulous laughter, as well as the other cast members who had stopped their scene to watch the one unfolding. 

 

"Lance. What the  _fuck_?" Keith's voice was still in that same strange hiss. 

 

Lance meant to answer the question, he really did, but he was far too busy wheezing. Broken parts of a sentence came in between the sounds, sure, but they were barely understandable.

 

"It's just," he broke off again, "you sound like a fuckin'  _squeaky toy._ " He broke off into laughter again, while Keith slowly turned red with embarrassment. 

 

"F-fuck off." Keith mumbled, causing Lance to look up from his near-death experience. 

 

"Oh come on, Mullet. It was just..surprising?" Lance looked like he was trying not to break into laughter again, biting his lip.

 

Keith turned on his heel, stalking away. 

"Keith!? Keith  _wait_!" He was yelling now. Although it felt fairly hindered by, well, the fact that he was still very much amused.

 "Mullet? Buddy? Catherine?" For some odd reason, Keith turned at the name of his character. 

' _Fuckin' theatre_.' Lance thought offhandedly. 

 

"What?" Keith's question felt more like a demand, his ears still a blazing fire. 

 

Lance's lips quirked upwards into a strange little smile. 

 

That smile did something terribly unhealthy to Keith's heart. 

But the words after? That's what really killed him.

 

"Don't stress, Mullet. It's kinda cute." 

 

And because he was Lance, this obnoxious, yet beautiful boy, he, (of course), had to finger gun. 

 

Suffice to say, the bullet hit its mark. 

 

All that was left of Keith was a mere corpse. 

 

\-----

 

 

Keith thought he handled things fairly well. Besides, you know, sputtering and saying something along the lines of angry gibberish in response to Lance. And possibly, just maybe, practically sprinting off the stage. 

 

He stayed sulking far, far away from the stage. (More like the second row of the auditorium, but.)

 

As he sulked, he was attempting to memorize lines. They'd simply changed 'Catherine' to 'Cath', since copyright was a big thing and they could just bullshit that it was a creative choice. That, and they weren't a very big school, so. It was unlikely that David Auburn himself would come kicking down their doors anytime soon. 

 

One thing did bother him, however. The play had a reoccurring theme of women vs. men and how women were often seen as lesser in the math industry. But they'd changed the gender of the main character; who pioneers the gender situation.

 

Keith wasn't really a political person. But he could understand when something seemed wrong, so when Allura called to take a ten, he walked up to her. 

 

"Uh, Allura?" Inwardly, he cursed his shaky voice. She turned, however, a prim smile on her face. 

 

"Yes, Keith?" 

 

His feet shifted, unsure if he even had the right to ask this. 

 

"There's a lot of um, women's rights in this play, and Catherine is so strong.." He trailed off. Keith related greatly to Catherine, the impulsivity, social reclusive and all. He agreed with absolutely everything she said, but did he actually have the right to say it? 

 

He shook his head. This was something he needed to say. "I don't understand why you gave me, a male, the role of a woman who defies all of this bullshit in her industry." 

 

Keith, for once, didn't regret his impulse. As he stared at Allura, her face stretched into a huge smile. 

 

"Thank god." Her voice was warm, as was her body when she pulled him into a hug. Keith didn't know how to react really, just sort of froze. 

"I'll let you in on something, Keith." She let go of him, something akin to pride in her eyes. "Most boys refuse to listen to women talk about strong women. We're called femi-nazis. But when someone they empathize with tells them? They'll listen. They'll listen, and it's horrid that they won't listen to me, or to Shay, but it is the truth. More men need to speak out about this, so the idiots at home can stop saying that women are crazy." She smiled sadly. "It's boys like you that can change the minds of the cat-callers and the like." Allura smirked. "And, well, your and Lance's chemistry was astounding." 

 

And just like that, the spell was broken. Keith began sputtering again, and Allura was laughing, but there was something else, too.

 

Pride. A little hope. 

 

Maybe even oblivious, impulsive boys with zero social experience could understand equality. 

 

 

\------

 

A little later, and they were doing scene work. It was a scene with just Keith and Lance, a ways into their first encounter on stage. 

 

It was funny, watching Keith play Catherine. It wasn't like he was acting. 

 

He was just slipping into himself. 

 

Although, it was a Keith with far more mathematical knowledge.

 

But still, it was someone starkly recognizable. So when Keith relaxed, a smirk on his face as he spoke, it didn't feel like he was reciting lines. It was a huge reason as to why Lance felt more alive on stage with him than anyone else. 

 

In this scene, Hal, Lance's character, was raving about a band to Cath. The energy seemed awkward, but it was still so..charged.

 

"You're in this band, aren't you?" 

Keith's voice was bored, amused, a mix of emotions that were so undeniably suited to him. 

It really was a role he was meant for. 

 

"Okay, yes. I play drums. You want to come? I never sing, I swear to God." How ironic was it that Lance was saying these words? 'I never sing'. Keith had to bite his lip to stop from laughing. Lance never  _stopped_  singing.

 

"No thanks." 

 

Again, the push and pull. The attempt to get your partner's energy back, the attempt to focus someone else's being onto yourself. Yet still managing to make it about them. Lance had to bite back a smirk, feeling adrenaline pulse through his body. Acting with Keith was just... _addicting_. 

 

"All right. Look, Cath, Monday: what do you say?" An olive branch, loosening the taut rope of tension between them. Keith turned sharp eyes toward him, complete and utter rejection in his eyes. 

 

"Don't you have a job?" 

 

A discovery, a change of tactics. That didn't work, so maybe..

 

"Yeah, I have a full teaching load this quarter plus my own work." 

 

This time, Keith's lips quirked upwards. Lance felt the rush of success, even though he knew what was going to happen next; even though he had the scene  _memorized_

it still felt like anything could happen. 

 

"Plus band practice." A small jab, an attempt at lightness from Keith. A smirk. Something small, something barely there, but still something to work with. Lance pushed on, just a little farther. Craving to get to his goal, his objective.

 

"I don't have time to do this but I'm going to. If you'll let me." He paused, for a brief moment. "I loved your dad. I don't believe a mind like his can just shut down. He had lucid moments. He had a lucid  _year,_ a whole year four years ago." 

 

Keith didn't let him win that easily. They each had their wants, their needs. It was a race to see who would win. 

 

"It wasn't a year. It was more like nine months." Cold, once again. Calculating. Lance became almost desperate. 

 

"A school year." He amended. "He was advising students... I was stalled on my Ph.D. I was this close to quitting. I met with your dad and he put me on the right track with my research. I owe him." 

 

Keith cut him off, clearly not having time for the monologue. 

"Sorry." His voice was bitter, not actually apologetic. Lance rolled his eyes.

 

"Look. Let me-You're twenty-five, right?" 

 

Keith startled. 

"How old are you?"

 

The tension eased upwards, each of them practically magnetized to each other.

"It doesn't matter. Listen-" Lance, as per usual, was cut off. He didn't even notice how close he was, both of them taking steps closer to one another with each line. 

 

"Fuck you, how old are you?" Keith's voice was spitfire. Lance had to jump back to keep from being burned. He opened his mouth, ready to douse the flames-

 

"Freeze." Allura's voice cut through it all, cold and crisp as she was. 

 

Once the tension snapped, Lance looked down. And was met with the hyper-close, extremely fixed image of Keith's lips. Wet with spit, almost shimmery. There was a brief second of consideration, on Lance's part. Before Allura's additional polite, "Ahem." 

 

After that, they immediately leapt apart, each of them flushed bright as a tomato. 

 

"Now you understand why I stopped you? That doesn't happen until scene three." Allura winked, her voice bright with mirth. "Also, it's 10:30. Go home." She gestured to the door, and both of them sprinted out.

 

There was barely a squeaky, "Night!", before both of them were slamming the doors on cars shut. 

 

Shiro always drove Keith home from play practice, as he would be leaving the musical's rehearsal at the same time. But when Keith burst into the car, slamming the door, he was a tad confused. Especially when Keith buried his head in his hands and groaned. 

 

"Uh..?" 

 

"Hit the gas, Shiro. Hit the fucking gas." 

 

Personally, Shiro felt that he probably shouldn't ask any further questions after that.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i know im a failure,, but i have a mildly good reason?? remember that theatre camp i mentioned WELL it's s o busy here and like theres no free time ever and im really trying to focus on acting since that's what i wanna do for the rest of my life,, bUT I PROMISE I HAVENT GIVEN UP
> 
> ALSO SHIRO IS GAY IS IT TOO LATE TO CHANGE THE SHIP PFASL;FHGADLK;GHADL;K


	12. Ween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iKNOW

The world was fucking cruel.

It was fucking cruel in the way that it made Keith look at deep blue eyes every single damn day. It was fucking cruel in the way that he had to watch those eyes curl up into winks and watch those impossibly gorgeous hands morph into finger guns, always at a girl. Sometimes the same one.

It was fucking cruel, even as Lance asked him to come over after school to work on lines and his heart skipped several beats.

It was fucking cruel, sitting there on that boy's bed, watching his mouth move and the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about things he was passionate about.

It was fucking cruel when they got to scene three, and Lance stopped completely. It was fucking cruel, watching his mouth tighten into a fake smile and him say,

"Let's wait till rehearsal to deal with..that stuff."

That stuff.

That kissing stuff.

That stuff that Keith would rather die a thousand deaths than wait for, but here he was.

                "I think that's enough for today." Lance's voice literally sounded like water, sometimes. In times like this, when he was relaxed. When he let his head slowly fall and hit the pillow, throat exposed. 

Keith gulped.

"Whatcha wanna do, Mullet?" Lance had turned to him, those stupidly gorgeous fucking blue eyes just _looking_ at him. If his eyes were an ocean, Keith would gladly drown.

God, what the fuck? He usually _hated_ cheesy thoughts, what the-

"Earth to Mullet? Hello?"

His eyes snapped upwards, cheeks immediately filling with color.

"O-oh um.. I don't care." Keith's voice trembled slightly. Lance's lips turned down into a frown.

"You alright there?" And of course, Lance just _had_ to get closer, inspecting him.

In his head, Keith told himself to move. To get away from those damn eyes. But in all honesty? He was far, _far_ too weak for that. So he stayed, even as his cheeks filled with color.

"Uh..yeah." He finally managed, voice rough. The other boy's eyebrows quirked upwards, and Keith could have sworn he saw the beginnings of darkening cheeks.

But too quickly, Lance withdrew with a small huff.

"You're a strange one, Keith."

Keith frowned.

"How so?"

That _stupid_ throat exposed again, Adam's apple bobbing as Lance spoke again.

"Dunno. You just..are."

"Real specific there, Lance."

"Oh shut up, _Keith."_ He said his name as if it was a curse. The thought made Keith frown, and stay silent. Lance, apparently good at reading the room, abruptly sat up. "Wanna watch a movie?"

Keith blinked.

"Uh, sure."

"Great!" Lance shot upwards, running over to a box underneath a tiny, boxy TV that sat against his wall.

Keith took the time that Lance was dedicating to finding a movie to study his room; something he sort of skipped doing once absorbed in practicing lines. The walls were all painted a blue-gray color, featuring one wall with what looked like possibly a hundred polaroids stuck to it. Keith smiled softly, walking over. There was pictures of plenty of things he didn't know, but there was also some he did. Candid photos of Pidge and Hunk laughing, or Pidge flipping off the camera. A single picture of an empty stage. Lance with what he assumed was his family, laughing under piles of children. _'So many memories.'_ Keith thought, a soft smile on his face as he traced an especially funny picture of Pidge with his finger.

He kind of wanted to be the next memory on this wall. 

_Click._

Keith whirled around to see Lance lowering a camera.

"Sorry, Mullet. I'm a bit of an impulse photographer." His smile was shy, crooked. An arm raised to scratch the back of his neck, flushing as he spoke. "I can burn it if it makes you uncomfortable."

' _Careful what you wish for, huh?'_ Keith thought ruefully, walking over to Lance.

"Nah." He smirked. "Put me on your wall."

And, for once, it was Lance sputtering as he walked past.

 

\---

 

It turns out Lance only had a VHS. Which made sense, as the rest of Lance's room seemed covered with things from the past. He had a record player in the corner, along with several album covers,(presumably from the records themselves), hanging on the wall opposite the polaroid wall. Elton John, Pat Benatar, Queen, Phil Collins, etc. Keith smiled softly.

"You like those?" Lance's voice was warm. Keith nodded, and Lance's grin grew. "One sec, I'll play some bops." He walked over, humming as he searched through a huge stalk of records. Eventually he pulled out one, and, with a strangely suspicious smirk on his face, put it on the player.

Immediately, music began to play.

_'Ocean man, take me by the hand, lead me to the land that you understand.'_

" _Lance-"_ Keith burst out, exasperated, but Lance just cut him off by singing. Loudly, and out of tune.

" _Ocean man, the voyage to the corner of the globe is a real trip!"_ Lance was dancing, well, more like flailing, really. He was clearly on the edge of bursting into laughter, doing the sprinkler and several other ridiculous moves. " _Ocean man, the crust of a tan man;_ c'mon, Keith! I know you know this song." He winked, grabbing Keith's arm and tugging him.

"God dammit, Lance-"

But it didn't seem like Lance was listening, too absorbed in singing along in the most obnoxious way possible.

 _"Ocean man, can you see through the wonder of amazement at the oberman-_ **_Keith!"_** Lance whined, pouting when Keith just folded his arms and glared.

"Nope." Keith replied dryly, popping the p.

Lance's pout increased, but he seemed to start trying new tactics. These included: dancing absolutely ridiculously, and attempting to sing like Freddy Mercury to a _Ween_ song. That was it. But Lance-Fucking-McClain, bobbing his head back and forth, legs going everywhere in the strangest and jerkiest movements...Keith wasn't even going to mention the arms. Along with him trying to achieve the octave jumps of Freddy in a song that stayed in the same relative few notes, it was just...an experience.

And Keith had mentioned that he was weak, right? Well, he was kind of a sucker, not only for Lance but for this absolute _ridiculousness._

It really wasn't too much of a shocker to him when he ended up breaking, bursting out laughing. Obnoxious, _snorting_ laughter. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd laughed this hard, so hard that tears starting pricking his eyes.

And Lance, right above him?

Lance was frozen. The song ended, but it was like an entirely new one had began to play in the form of Keith. And _fuck,_ it was beautiful. Flushed cheeks, gorgeous violet eyes brimmed with tears of laughter, that ridiculous hair an absolute mess.

Except Lance sort of stopped thinking that hair was ridiculous, in that moment. In that moment, all he really wanted to do was bury his hands in that stupid mullet. In that moment, all Lance could think of was leaning down and kissing the shocked smile off that stupid(?) face.

In the most intended pun ever, it was in that moment that Lance's brain's record scratched.

_'What?'_

\--

Watching a Disney movie didn’t help. Lance thought it would, belting along to ‘I Just Can't Wait To Be King' and tearing up for the thousandth time when Mufasa fell.

 Except this plan backfired.

All it did was make him look over at Keith, who, somehow, had never seen The Lion King before. All it did was make him see Keith tear up too, and hum happily along to ‘Hakuna Matata’. Which of course, made Lance fall further into the trap.

He didn’t want to smile at Keith when he gasped audibly at Simba and Scar’s fight. He didn’t want to notice Keith gripping the carpet violently. He didn’t want to reach over and put his hand atop Keith’s, but he did.

He didn’t want to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

He didn’t want to see Keith’s bashful, embarrassed smile that made his heart flip. 

But he did.

And when the credits rolled, when Keith looked over at him with stars in his eyes? 

God, Lance wanted to kiss him. 

Keith glanced down at their joined hands, his flush still visible even in the darkness of the room. 

Lance glanced down at his lips. 

‘ _What am I doing?’_  

His thoughts buzzed in the back of his mind, but all he could focus on was the invisible string that seemed to be drawing him closer to Keith. 

 

His eyes fluttered shut, and he felt the ghost of warm breath pass over his lips. 

‘ _God, this boy is going to be the death of me.’_

Of course, it _was_ Lance’s life. 

So of course, his door swung open. 

And just like that, everything snapped. 

Lance scrabbled backwards, just as Keith shot upwards onto his feet. 

Was he a fucking cat? 

 But not even Keith’s strange catlike abilities could stop Veronica, sharp as she was, immediately assess the situation. 

Not even Keith could stop the earsplitting shriek of:

“ ** _Lance has a boyfriend!_** _”_

Lance locked eyes with Keith, those still ridiculously gorgeous eyes, just as Keith mouthed, 

‘ _Fuck_.’

Fuck indeed, Keith. 

Fuck indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all! i know this was really h*ckin late and that's really because i kind of got trapped in the post s7 depression  
> but ive realized that I want to write my story, the story that I didn't get to see in the canon universe.  
> i still 100% love and support the crew, even though theyve done some things i really dont agree with. but im happy to report that i am past my s7 downfall and ready to write the story i wanna write!! 
> 
> also bethca didnt expect ANOTHER fic tROPE H A
> 
> as always, thank you so so much for the continued support! i love writing this and dont intend to quit, even if my updates are slow.   
> love you all!


	13. Stop Light Observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lOOK AT MEEE UPDATING QUICKLY

The events afterward were not exactly peaceful. Veronica immediately grabbed Keith and tugged him outside, only Lance's squawk being heard before the door slammed closed.  

"Don't hurt him."

Keith was flabbergasted.   
"We're not-"

"Ah! Hush. Just don't touch my brother. Well, I mean I guess that's implied-"

His cheeks turned a violent red.   
"I wouldn't- we're _not dati-"_ Veronica's eyebrow shot upwards in an uncanny replica of Lance's signature expression.

"So you don't want to date my brother?"

"No, that's not what I said-"

"So you _are_ dating!"

" _No-"_

Amber skin shot out from the door, grabbing Keith and dragging him back in; somehow slamming the door again in the process. Veronica laughed from outside.

"Have fun boys! Keith, if you hurt him I will find you and kill you!" She said all of this with a lighthearted tone, which somehow only made it scarier.

Now alone in the room, Keith stared blankly at Lance before deadpanning:

"What the fuck."

Lance laughed nervously, scratching the back of his  neck. "Lance _."_ Keith warned.

"Man, how weird is that, huh? Well anyways, it's getting late and you should head back home! Wouldn't want anyone worrying-"

" _Lance."_ Keith repeated, stronger now. "Does your sister seriously think we're dating?"

His blue eyes dropped to the ground. "Yeah, probably." Keith hissed out a breath between his teeth.

"She didn't seem to listen to me when I told her it wasn't a thing. I mean, why'd she even think that?"

Lance looked up, then, arching an eyebrow. "Really, Keith?"

The other boy's brow furrowed. "What?" Lance just shook his head.

"Whatever, dude." Inwardly, he sighed. ' _So it was just me projecting myself onto him.'_

"Lance, what are we gonna do? Will she spread a rumor?"

"No doubt that Mama, Papa, Abu-" He broke off. "Louis, Marco..Maybe my cousins? They all probably already know." Keith hissed a breath through his teeth.

"No chance that'll stay in the family, then?"

"'Not even slightly."

Keith sank to the floor, burying his head in his hands.

"What do we do? Oh, fuck my foster family doesn't even know I'm _gay_ -"

"I'm sure it'll be okay, maybe tell them before they hear?" Lance tried to make his voice as comforting as possible. Coming out was terrifying. His family didn't _really_ know for sure that Lance was bi, but with how much he'd praised boys' arms and in general.. _boys,_ Lance figured they knew.

"I could get sent back, Lance!" Keith's voice cracked, panic showing through. "They could kick me out and I'd be _fucked-"_

Lance put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. He knew from experience that light touches never helped.  "Breathe, Keith. I'm sure they already love the shit out of you. I mean, look how close you've gotten to me, and Pidge, and Hunk. _We_ already love the shit out of you. I'm willing to bet Hunk's moms would easily adopt you. I mean, my family would, but they kinda think we're dating, so.." He laughed nervously. "Pidge's would probably be a nightmare. They only survive on ramen and energy drinks." Keith laughed pitifully at that, his voice shaky. But at least now he was smiling.

"I'll tell Shiro now. I can sense that he's bi as fuck. "

Lance short-circuited for a second.

" _Shiro?"_ He croaked, and Keith turned.

"Uh, yeah? Did you not know he was bi?"

" _Shiro's your_ brother?"

Keith raised his eyebrow.   
"Lance. He drives me home from practice every single day. How could you possibly not know?"

"I don't know! How could you- uh... How could you possibly not know the Lion King!?"

Keith didn't grace that with a response, just pulling out his phone and dialing a number.

"Hey, Shiro. Nah, I'm fine. Also, I'm gay. Thought you should know. See you later." With that, he just..hung up.

Lance stared at him, dumbfounded. Keith rolled his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing, just..That was the fastest coming out I've ever seen. I broke down like five times before telling Hunk."

Keith faltered. "No."

"What?"

" _You're_ gay?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "I'm the best bi, thanks."

"But you're like-" Keith flustered, "The most _straight_ boy straight stereotype ever!"

"Keith, please. Theatre was never straight."

"But- my gaydar-"

" _Bi_ dar." Lance just laughed at Keith's expression. "If it helps, I only really stopped being in denial at the beginning of this year." He bit his tongue to stop from saying, ' _You know, when you walked on that audition stage and I kinda lost my shit. Wait, was_ Keith _my bi awakening? No, it had to be Leo Di'Caprio.'_

"So you've known for a month?" Keith asked, surprisingly not condescending. Just genuinely curious.

"Oh, I've _known_ for years. I just had the ' _Shit, I really am bi as fuck.'_ Thought this year." Keith nodded in understanding.

"Ah."

Awkward silence fell over the two. Keith was inwardly exploding, naturally. His head was a consistent buzzing of _'IhaveachanceIhaveachanceIhaveachance-'_

Naturally, his inward buzzing was interrupted by the other, physical rapid buzzing of his phone against his thigh. Keith pulled it out with a frown. "What does Shiro want?"

Lance burst out laughing at that. "Keith, you called him, came out, and just hung up. Surely he's confused. "

"Oh. Yeah, probably." Keith answered the phone. "Good to know, Shiro." A small smile played at Keith's lips. "Uh, what?" The smile dropped to lead way for confusion. "Um, okay? I'll be right there." He hung up, frowning. Lance's smile dropped.

"What'd he say?"  


"Uh, he said that he supported me."

Lance broke out into a grin.

"Yay!"

"Also, he's apparently at your house right now? To take me home for some family dinner?"

"Keith, it's eight." He deadpanned.

"I know, it's early as fuck for dinner."

Lance just shook his head, accepting Keith as a lost cause. As Keith started to stand, Lance abruptly grabbed his arm in a panic.

"Wait, what are we going to do about the dating thing?"

Keith's face dropped.

"Fuck. Call later?" Keith's phone had started to buzz again, panic painting his features. Lance didn't want that expression on his dumb,( ~~gorgeous)~~ , face anymore, so he smiled reassuringly.

"The usual?"

A face flattening into irritation.

"The usual as in three in the fucking morning?"

"You got it!" Lance winked, even as Keith headed out the door, shaking his head.

From downstairs, he heard Veronica chirp:

"Thanks for keeping it down up there!"

That, along with the increased hurried sound of Keith's footsteps, had Lance sighing deeply.

"I'm in deep shit."

He spoke to no one in particular, but he figured the world should know.  

 

 

\---

Three AM rolled around fairly quickly.

Lance sent a text over to Keith.

**Me:** so

**Me:** veronica has been throwing condoms at me

**Me:** hows it goin with the family dinner

**MulletMan(takemebythehandOOHH):** You assume we're still eating?

**Me:** you consider eight early as f*ck for dinner what am I sUPPOSED to think

**MulletMan(takemebythehandOOHH):** Eight is early for dinner.

**Me:** yeah yeah sure mullet

**Me:** anyways

**Me:** call or text

**MulletMan(takemebythehandOOHH):** Whatever works for you

**Me:** call?

**MulletMan(takemebythehandOOHH):** K

When Keith's contact name showed up, Lance frowned.

"Mullet, I don't have a contact photo for you."

"Thank fuck for that."

He snorted at that.

"No, not thank fuck. This is a tragedy."

A sigh came from the line.

"Don't we have a sort of big problem to figure out?"

Now it was Lance's turn to sigh dramatically.

"So, I'm assuming Veronica has already told Rizavi. Which means that whole crew now knows, so  knowing Griffin a whole shitload of others know, so.. Expect the school to know by tomorrow."

Lance could practically _see_ Keith's face drop, even with just hearing the usual hiss of breath. A few moments passed before Keith spoke up again.

"Who's Rizavi?"

"Veronica's girlfriend. "

"Ah."

Severe ADHD never let Lance stay on task, and, naturally, latch on to anything slightly interesting in a conversation.

"Veronica being bi isn't a surprise to you, but _I_ am?"

A light snort, before deadpan.

"She's got the haircut."

"She just cut it last week!" Lance protested.

"It's the bi haircut, Lance. It doesn't matter when or where someone gets it, it's a brand." Keith could sense Lance's pout with perfect clarity, and he laughed softly. "It's alright Lance, now that you've said it, I see it."

Another pause, before determined speech.

"I hope you know I'm coordinating my outfit tomorrow to look like the bi flag."

Soft laughter filtered through, and Lance smiled.

"Okay, but seriously, your whole family thinks we're dating? And most likely the school very soon?" Keith always seemed to be the one to steer the conversation back.

"..Yeah. Seems like it."

"Fuck. What do we do? Veronica doesn't seem like the type to let it go if we told her otherwise."

Lance bit his lip, wondering for a moment. An idea had been playing in the back of his mind all night. A stupid, reckless, but if it worked? If he went through with this, with this bullshit Netflix original tactic, what would happen? He knew what he wanted to say. What he wanted to propose, because he was selfish. Because he would gladly hold Keith's hand, even it was fake. He would gladly jump at an opportunity to touch Keith casually, softly, and it not be vulnerable. He would do anything for that.

But still, was he really about to suggest a cheesy, teen movie thing in vain?

' _You snooze you lose.'_ In his head, Pidge angrily chirped: ' _You're using that expression wrong!'_

"Shut up, Pidge." Lance muttered, forgetting for a second that Keith was on the phone.

"What?"

"Uh, nothing." More awkward silence. Lance took a shaky breath, wondering. ' _Might as well try.'_

"We could..let them believe it. Just for a bit."

Dead silence. Panic began to set in, Lance adding quickly, "I mean, we wouldn't have to do anything like kiss and stuff except for in play practice for our scene, cause I mean, that's already happening and stuff but um...It's just easier? And then my family can get off my ass about lying to them all the time and, wait, you probably don't benefit from this arrangement at all, fuck, uh just- never mind. " He bit his lip so hard it began to ache, trying not to cry from pure regret.

More silence, before Keith spoke. It wasn't the shaky, panicked voice from before. It wasn't anger or deadpan, either. It almost sounded..determined?

"Let's do it."

"What?" Lance wheezed, not even believing the words he was hearing.

"I said, let's do it. It's easier, right? We can just stage a breakup in a few weeks or something after Veronica and everyone calms down. Besides, Shiro's gonna be on my ass about boys now anyways, so.."

Back at Keith's house, Keith's face was a fire. And his brain? His brain was the flames. ' _What the fuck am I doing.'_ Was the only coherent thought in his brain. But at the same time, he was desperate. He was selfish, wanting anything that brought him closer to Lance McClain.  Keith didn't care if it was a day, a week, even a second, but the excuse to actually..imagine?

What would it be like to be that close to someone that radiates so much light? Even if it was fake, would he burn? Would he suffocate? Or, as most things with Lance, would he become a little lighter himself?

Lance was the sun, and Keith was the idiot staring right at it. He couldn't find it within himself to care if he went blind, as long as Lance was the last thing he saw.

Fake or real, Keith was practically an addict to anything Lance. Anything that brought him even slightly closer to another smirk, a grin, a light touch, scorching eye contact in a scene, blue eyes.. He'd do it. He'd jump at the chance. Even when warning bells went off in his brain, when he knew all he could sense was ' _DangerDangerDanger_ ', he couldn't bring himself to care.

There was a long silence after that, both of them staring up at the ceilings and wondering what the fuck they were doing. They were alike, in that sense. Following blind instinct, some bizarre craving for each other without thinking through the consequences.

 Reckless impulsivity: A side effect of caring.

"Ground rules?" Lance whispered, feeling like a normal voice would be far too loud. Would disrupt the fragile state they were in.

"We tell Pidge and Hunk immediately." Keith almost retched at the thought of lying to their earnest faces.

"Obviously, but I meant like..physical stuff. Holding hands okay?"

_'This is actually happening.'_ They seemed to have the same thought at the same time.

"...Yeah." Keith's voice had dropped to the quietest you could go until silence, but Lance still heard.

"Hugs?" The same softness, the same quiet.

A laugh.

"Lance, you already hug everyone every day."

There was another stretched out silence before he responded.

"Never hugged you though."

Keith waited, waited for the ' _Wouldn't want to get too close to that mullet!'._ But all he heard was quiet sincerity, and god, wasn't that beautiful?

He couldn't get any quieter, so his voice cracked when he tried.

"Okay."

"Okay." Lance's voice, as seen before, was water. Calming, smooth. Natural, gorgeous. Sometimes it caught against rocks or increased depending on the tide, but at it's very base it was the soft sound of waves against a shore. The trickling of a creek through a forest. The rush of a river.

They didn't mention kissing, because it went unspoken, it seemed. It would disrupt the fragility of this, almost. Stating the obvious was something, in this moment, that they both seemed to hate. It went unspoken: ' _Not unless we're Hal and Cath.'_

"Okay?" Keith murmured again, questioning not the rules, but Lance. ' _Are you okay with this?'_ It was funny, how different words could sound with a slight change.

"Okay." Again, the same word, completely different. Reassured. Confident. Keith thought that sounded quite a bit like theatre. Words were just thousands of different meanings. But with Lance, the meaning was always clear. It was just the way he was.

The conversation was clearly over, but they kept the line going. Neither of them seemed to want to hang up.

It was a few seconds of just listening to each other's breathing, wondering about what they'd done. Wondering if it was worth it.

But eventually, it had to end.

Keith took a shaky breath, and broke the glass surrounding their speech with a normal tone.

It was gruff, rushed, practically violent compared to what they'd been doing beforehand.

"Night, Lance."

"Night, Keith."

Lance, however, was Lance. He never adjusted his tone, that same smooth, water-like  tone in the quietest way possible.

When the line ended, Keith immediately turned and screamed into his pillow. He wasn't sure why, or what emotion he was screaming out. Just that he had to get it _out._

Lance was Lance, though. So when the line ended, he continued to stare at the ceiling, safe in his own fragile, glass bubble where everything they just said was real.

It was a hell of a dream.

 

\---

 

In the morning, when Lance showed up in a purple blazer, pink shirt, and navy pants, Keith couldn't help but smile.

And when Lance reached out a hand to him, well, the smile stayed.

"Let's do this, Mullet."

Blue eyes twinkling with mischief, with danger, with light.

Keith grasped his hand, regardless of the warnings in his head. 

"Let's."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI YALL LOOK ARE YOU PROUD OF ME I UPDATED IN LIKE THREE DAYS BC I LOVE YOU GUYS AND WANNA BE BETTER   
> this chap is jus cheesy metaphors gALOREEE and WAY too dialogue heavY  
>  but i stayed up rly late writing it BC IM EXCITED ABT A N O T H A FIC TROPE BEING ADDED TO THIS MESSSS
> 
> it's 100% canon that Lance is loud as a front but when it comes to real emotions he's very quiet  
> i feel like keith is the opposite, quiet as a front but when it comes to real emotions he explodes with sound  
> im too tired to link but my tumblr is @simon-says-nothing   
> playlist is called dont make purple go to prev chaps for a lInK


	14. told slant

Walking into school that morning was strange. Keith was used to being in the background, not being noticed. But now, walking in with Lance, it was like the world took notice. Suddenly, the spotlight was on him. He wasn’t a background character. 

He was the protagonist.

But in a strange way, so was Lance. Lance, however, seemed to bathe in the spotlight. Let it wash over him with a happy smirk, a soft grin.

The light shone on Lance, and it was exactly where he was supposed to be. 

“What the fuck?” A small, angry ball ran towards them, and Keith winced. They forgot to tell Pidge and Hunk.

Pidge stopped in front of them, arms crossed and glaring. “So you two finally figure your shit out, and don’t even tell your friends?” 

Keith faltered. ‘ _ Finally?’  _

Lance took over, wrapping an arm around Pidge, which in turn dragged Keith in the same direction. 

“Ow, Lance-“ 

“Hush, darling.” 

Once again, Keith was rendered speechless. ‘ _ What the fuck.’  _

Pidge arched their eyebrows at that, before glancing around and quickly analyzing the situation. In watching their mental gears turn, Keith felt that they might have already figured it out. 

Lance steered them out of the very public hallway, walking quickly to the usual place they hung out before school started: under the stairs. 

“Care to explain?” Pidge said, as soon as they stopped moving. 

“It’s fake.” Keith blurted, the only thing he could think to say. They rolled their eyes.

“Obviously. But why?” 

Lance interjected first. 

“Well, Veronica saw us and thought we were kissing and a thing so she ran off and told all her friends, and it’s easier to just play along till the hype goes down, right? A-and this way Shiro doesn’t bother Keith about dating someone and hey, maybe Nyma will be jealous?” Lance did what he always did when he was nervous, laugh, and scratch the back of his head.

Keith glanced at him. ‘ _ Nyma _ ?’ He hadn’t mentioned her in the phone call _. 'Who the hell is Nyma? _ '

Pidge’s eyes narrowed. “This is fucking stupid. Also, what about Hunk?” 

“Shouldn’t we just tell him when he gets here?” Keith asked, but both Lance and Pidge shook their heads violently. "Why not?"

Pidge sighed.

"Hunk is a softie, okay? He would hate keeping this big of a lie."

"I don't want to lie to him." Keith persisted, only hesitating when Lance put a hand on his shoulder. Violet eyes flicked upwards to meet blue, confusion clear in the purple depths.

"Once it all blows over in a couple weeks, we'll tell him. This is just for now, okay?" Lance's eyes betrayed his true feelings, those of one who hated what he had to do.

Keith hissed out a breath, nodding.

"Fine."

He pretended to ignore Pidge, muttering something about oblivious idiots.

It was easier that way.

\---

English class was a new form of hell. Lance had decided he had to move his desk from behind him to next to him, which, for some reason, Shiro didn't even care about. Keith theorized it had something to do with the shit-eating smirk he wore as he looked at them, Lance leaning into Keith's shoulder as he pretended to look at "notes".

Inwardly, Keith tried to remind himself it was all for show. But when Lance's breath hit the shell of his ear, when he leaned most of his body weight into him and all Keith could think was ' _ warm.' _ , it caused some problems. Notably, his voice wavering.

"Lance." He meant to sound stern, meant to sound angry, but instead, he just sounded weak. ' _ Fuck me and fuck Lance too-' _

"You alright there, Mullet?" And shit, those eyes were  _ way  _ too close. Keith gulped, throat dry.

"Good." He ended up squeaking, much to Lance's amusement. Which of course, also led to Shiro looking up from his desk with a smug smirk.

English had officially been demoted from favorite to least favorite class. In a matter of seconds.

While Keith agonized, Lance seemed to have let it go, instead choosing to peer at Keith's paper.

"Dude, what the fuck is a gerund." He murmured, and Keith's lips quirked upwards.

"Am I really better at something than  _ the  _ Lance McClain?" He drawled, sarcasm clear in his tone. Lance sputtered.

"Not  _ better _ , my master brain just hasn't caught up to Shiro's, to-"

"To gerunds." Keith supplied.

"Yes! Exactly! Thank you, Keith." The boy still looked flustered, despite the victorious grin. Keith found himself laughing, bursting into almost violent giggles.

This kind of laughter only ever really came when he was around Lance, it seemed. And as always, when Keith laughed, Lance found himself staring.

They'd gotten themselves into somewhat of a cycle.

But honestly? Keith was happy to let it continue.

\---

Driving home that day, for some reason, Keith felt a bad feeling growing in his gut. It didn’t feel like his regular paranoia. It could’ve been anxiety, could’ve been anything else, but he couldn’t quite believe that. 

Something was wrong.

When Keith got home, he was met with serious expressions from his foster parents. Ice settled in his veins, quickly and rapidly, even as Shiro smiled and waved.

"What's wrong?" Keith never was fond of playing around with delicate words, tip toeing had never been his thing. He'd much rather jump straight to the issue, thanks.

Mrs. Shirogane stepped up first, and Keith just tensed more. She still made him uncomfortable, nervous. Her hand went to her pocket, and for a second, Keith froze.  _ 'Did she find the cigarettes fuck-' _

But instead, she pulled out the last thing he had from his mother.

And Keith's breath hitched in his throat.

"What's this?" Her voice was soft, so, so soft. She said the question like she already knew the answer, and that just infuriated Keith more. He didn't say a word, his entire body shaking.

Shiro grabbed his mother's arm, a warning in his eyes. Keith wanted to laugh, a strange, bitter laugh. How ironic was it that the woman  _ meant _ to be his mother held the last thing that made him think  _ 'Mom.'? _

"Give it back." His words were cold, a reflection of the ice in his blood. Mrs. Shirogane made a pained expression.

"Keith, there's something we need to tell you-"

"Give it  _ back!"  _ The ice began to melt under his rage, as Keith wasn't quite sure how to express things without an explosion of heat, of sound.  He could feel it building, the volcano in his chest, just waiting to erupt and burn everyone around him.

Hurt flashed in his foster family's eyes, he could see it mirrored in each pair of gray eyes. It was funny, how similar each looked to each other. Keith was so clearly set apart from them, so easily distinguished as not one of the family.

Shiro was the worst, probably. Just three hours ago they'd been laughing, Shiro smirking as Lance pressed him about grammar. So now, seeing the turmoil in his eyes?

Keith wanted to vomit.

But instead, he stood his ground. Let the fire blaze.

Shiro just gently took the knife out of his mother's hands, handing it wordlessly to Keith. In a flash of movement, Keith was practically sprinting up the stairs, ignoring the Shirogane's cries.

Before he opened the door, the last thing he heard was his foster mother, her last, desperate cry:

" _ Don't go in there! _ "

And when he opened that door,  _ god,  _ did Keith wish he would've listened.

“Mom?”

\---

Lance yawned lengthily when he walked inside his house after school, stretching with a small, happy sigh.  

“Veronica?” He asked, looking around at his house currently shrouded in darkness. “Hello? Anybody home?”    
Walking further in didn’t prove to help very much, proving his theory that everyone was most likely out. Which meant he was home alone with his Abuela. 

Lance tried not to let that fact let dread settle in his gut, he really did. He tried to smile, think like he used to, like quality time with her would be better than none.

But Lance wasn’t that selfless. Not anymore.

“Abuela?” He called, albeit weakly. Wandering into her room proved his original theory: that she was asleep. Relief flooded his veins, immediately followed by vicious guilt. “ _ Noches, Abuelita.”  _ A soft murmur as he closed her door, walking back out into the living room. 

Lance quickly collapsed onto the couch, trying to erase the guilt lingering with Disney movies.    
It was about halfway into  _ Frozen  _ when he felt his eyes begin to droop. Sleep was appreciated to Lance,  and he let himself slip into the warm darkness. 

He welcomed the escape. 

\---

Naturally, because this was Lance’s life, this  _ wasn’t  _ Disney, sleeping was a grave mistake. 

He woke up to the sound of screaming. Fear sprung him from the couch, adrenaline immediately wiping away any traces of sleep. “Abuela,” A single call, “Abuelita?!” His voice gradually grew more frantic as he raced to her room, almost missing the woman standing in the kitchen. “What are you doing, Abuela?” The panic had drained from his voice, being replaced with something that sounded akin to exhaustion. 

He was tired. So,so tired of the pain, the fear of the woman he used to go to whenever he was scared. 

She was holding a pan, shaking with fear. Lance tried to approach slowly, but she shrieked a warning. 

_ “Stay there!”  _ Her voice was practically a scream, forcing him to stay where he was. 

“Abuela,” He pleaded softly, “What’s going on?” 

The craze in her eyes made his heart sink further into his chest, repressed emotions attempting to spring back up. With it, to his own surprise, came the tears.    
  
“Who are you?” Her voice was ice, it was cold, it hit it’s target and sunk deep. Even if Lance knew, even if he’d heard those three words so many times, today, alone as he was, they hit even deeper. They drove the fact home. 

She didn’t know who he was anymore, and that hurt more than any insult she could scream at him.

He heard his mother’s voice in his head, telling him he had to be patient, to play along, to do what would make her the most comfortable. But this time, he ignored it. 

“You used to make flan when I was sad.” His voice was broken, now. Memories flooding his brain, the dam within himself breaking. “You’d pull me into your lap and,” He broke off, “Y-you’d smile at me and say, ‘ _ Dios Leandro, how can you be sad with all the sweet things in this world?’.”  _ The tears flowed freely now, water rushing in with the one blockade gone.    
Looking at her now, Lance knew she was gone. Confusion was clearly painted on her face, and that just broke him more. 

Today he couldn’t help Juanita remember science class, today he couldn’t do it. 

Today, he couldn’t do much of anything at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> family is really hard and so is updating on time kILL ME  
> i apologize like every chap im so sorry, i work three jobs if you include school which I DO and i am super dedicated to this but it takes me a lot of time to write without going into over analyzing anxiety and just,, OOF  
> im so sorry yall, i really am trying to quicken my update schedule and have longer chaps but its v hard for a tiny anxious man PF
> 
> anywho, i STAN krolia but i feel like vld didn't touch on the pain that it is when a parent leaves, no matter the reason so im kind of addressing it in my own way in this fic. my spanish is HORRIBLE so please pLEaSE correct me if shits waCK, and i write juanitas alzheimers purely from experiences from close friends and family with that experience. thank you all so much for reading and sticking by my crazy schedule and still supporting me, it honestly means the world to me. i love you all so so much!


	15. tsunami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith's memories are in italics, lyrics are in bold and italics.   
> mild tw for memories of alcohol abuse, and just in general this chap is really negative, hmu if you just want a short summary rather than reading!   
> thanks yall<3

**_I am not a tsunami, so don’t look at me that way._ **

**_I wanna be a good sky on a bad day._ **

 

_ “Where’s Momma?” A tug on a sleeve, big, scared eyes looking up at his last parent left.  _

_ His father was never one for sugarcoating, even when Keith was four.  _

_ “Gone.”  _

_ He sounded so..sad, just staring ahead even as his son fell to his knees beside him.  _

_ That was just the way things were.  _

“Mom?” 

The woman in front of him was someone Keith barely recognized. And yet, she was still starkly familiar. Through hazy images, through the occasional photo his dad accidentally left lying around. The same strange, violet eyes he had. Dark hair,  dark clothes. 

Staring at her now, the woman who he never really had the chance to know, Keith was surprised at what he felt. 

It wasn’t relief, or sadness, or love, or happiness, or hope. 

He felt..angry. 

“What are you doing here?” 

_ After that, his father never really seemed to be himself. They were watching a movie, some R-rated film that Keith no doubt should not have been watching at his age, but by the empty look in his dad’s eyes, he doubted he cared.  _

_ “Dad?”  _

_ A gruff noise, the most acknowledgement Keith got these days.  _

_ “When’s Mom coming back?”  _

_ The look that overtook his dad’s face, then, was the first time Keith could truly remember feeling fear. Not of his father, but of the look in his eyes.  _

_ The fear of ever looking like that.  _

_ That absolutely broken expression.  _

_ To Keith, it was terrifying.  _

She rose from his bed where she sat, almost looking like she wanted to wrap him in a hug, wanted to approach him. Keith took a step back, arms immediately folding in an obvious show of, ‘ _ No.’  _

Her mouth opened, and Keith expected some sort of apology, some sort of  _ anything,  _ but all that came out was this:

“Keith.” 

_ “Why did you punch that kid?” His father’s voice wasn’t even angry. He just sounded like he always did, even years later, even when his son got suspended in  _ elementary  _ school. Empty. Void.  _

_ Keith just looked away.  _

_ “Said Mom left ‘cause she hated us.”  _

_ And his father looked straight ahead, unblinking as he took another drink of some foul substance he seemed to always have these days.  _

_ “Maybe she did.”  _

“Get out.” His voice was poison, it was bitter, it was made to hurt. 

“Keith-” 

With that broken, sad tone, Keith snapped. He didn't want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear why he grew up without a mother, why his father drank himself to death. He didn’t fucking care. 

“Why are you even here? He’s dead, you know? He’s fucking  _ dead _ . And you just-” The anger was building, exploding, and yet fading all at the same time. Keith was fire, he was pain and regret and memories, and his sparks seemed to begin to flicker out. Looking at those eyes filled with pain, the same pain he’d been carrying for six years, he wanted to throw up.

Why now? Why was she here now, after everything? After his father stopped being himself, after he threw himself in that fire, after he drank so much he practically forgot his own name? Why did she come back?  _ Why was she here? _

“You just left him to die.” His voice was gone, then. Even as he watched tears fill those eyes he both knew and didn’t, even as she walked towards him and he turned around and ran. He wasn’t there anymore, not really. 

He just ran, and ran, and ran. 

\---

When Lance woke up, he wasn’t in his bed. His mother was carding fingers through his hair, pain clear in her eyes. 

“Hey  _ mijo.  _ How are you feeling?” 

To tell the truth, his mother was an absolute saint. An incredibly kind, sweet, brave, amazing person that held their family together. It was rare that she let the pain of her mother forgetting who she was get to her, but it seemed Lance had triggered that emotion. 

God, he hated himself. 

“I’m sorry Mama.” He whispered, feeling tears prick at his eyes. 

Warmth was abruptly crushing him, his mother hugging him so tightly he was sure his circulation  would be cut. 

“Shh, sh.  _ Te quiero, hijo mio.  _ “ 

Lance just cried harder into her shoulder, both of them holding each other as they grieved a woman still alive, but lost. 

It was the first time they’d allowed themselves to grieve in a long while. 

\---

**_New message from: Obnoxious._ **

**_12:48 AM._ **

**Obnoxious:** hey mullet man hows it goin

**Obnoxious:** mullet? 

 

**_New message from: Obnoxious_ **

**_1:56 AM._ **

**Obnoxious:** geez you sure suck at answerin

**Obnoxious:** it’s rude to leave your boyfriend on read yknow

 

**_New message from: Obnoxious_ **

**_3:02 AM._ **

**Obnoxious:** hey man are you okay? 

**Obnoxious:** you can talk to me if you need anything

**Obnoxious:** i hope youre okay

**Obnoxious:** ill see you tomorrow? 

**_Read_ ** **_✔ at 3:24 AM._ **

 

\---

 

“Has anyone heard from Keith in the past few days?” 

Hunk looked up from his phone, confusion painted on his face. It was lunchtime, and Keith still hadn’t shown up. Pidge, Hunk, and Lance sat in the heavens, watching their feet dangle in a melancholy silence. It felt strange, without Keith. Even if he’d only been here for a few months, he’d still very clearly become an important part of their group. 

“You’re his boyfriend, wouldn’t he have talked to you first?” Hunk asked, genuine curiosity filling his features. Lance felt yet another pang of guilt for not telling him the truth, but he tried to ignore it. 

“Er, no. I haven’t heard from him.” 

Pidge looked up from their phone, frowning as well. 

“Did something happen?” 

“Not that I know of.” Lance replied, sighing. He was still..not great, after the past few days with his Abuela, and he was not quite in the right mental place to be worrying half to death over Keith. 

“We should ask Shiro.” Hunk piped up, and Lance nodded. 

He may not have been in the best mental place for it, but it wouldn’t stop him from worrying. 

They were all climbing down from the heavens in record time, walking over to Shiro’s classroom with purpose. 

When they got there, however,  the door opened before they could even reach for it 

And, quite frankly, Shiro looked terrible. 

Dark bags bore trenches in his face, his hair an absolute mess. His face was starkly pale, and the relief in his eyes when he saw them made Lance’s heart break. 

“Lance!” The way he said his name just solidified the sinking feeling in his gut, and he rubbed at his eyes. Shiro sounded so hopeful, like Lance might have the answers. 

Unfortunately, neither of them knew anything.

“I have no idea where Keith is.” Lance spoke dryly, tiredly. “I’m guessing something’s wrong?” 

Shiro cursed under his breath. 

“He’s missing. He won’t answer his phone, and his bike is gone-” 

ADHD decided to kick in, then, Lance interjecting with: 

“Keith has a  _ bike?  _ Like, a motorbike?” 

All Shiro did was raise his eyebrows, not even dignifying that with a response. 

Briefly, the thought of ‘ _ Is Keith the asshole driving through my neighborhood in the middle of the night?’  _ popped into his head, before he shook it away. Now was not the time. 

“Sorry. Why did he leave?” At that, Shiro didn’t answer, just looking away. So it was personal family stuff, then. “Classified. Gotcha.” 

Shiro opened his mouth like he wanted to apologize, but Lance waved him away. He understood well enough. 

  
“We fucked up. My family and I, we fucked up.” 

Lance, Pidge, and Hunk simultaneously gasped at hearing Shiro curse. Not that he wasn’t capable, but he was usually just so...calm. Collected. Like nothing bothered him. Seeing the look in his eyes, the way he gripped the wall like it was the only thing holding him up..

It just solidified something was wrong. 

Seriously, horribly wrong. 

Lance meant to step forward, to comfort Shiro, to do  _ something,  _ but he found he couldn’t. His heart wasn’t in it. He was exhausted, and anxious, and worried, and still so  _ fucking  _ sad because he’d lost his Abuela. He just couldn't.  

But today, he didn’t have to. 

A strong hand gripped his shoulder, the other going to rest on Shiro. 

Hunk smiled at them, the sad, reassuring sort of smile that said he wasn’t entirely okay either, but he had more strength than them in that moment. 

“It’s gonna be okay.” 

And in that moment, Lance and Shiro didn’t have to take care of anyone, just for a moment. 

For a moment,they were crushed by the biggest, warmest hug, and they were the ones being taken care of.  

For a moment, they felt safe. 

For them, it was the first time in a long, long while. 

\---

Lance was late to play practice. 

He’d been driving around with Pidge and Hunk all day, searching most-likely locations for Keith. They’d been completely and utterly unsuccessful. It seemed like no matter where they looked, he wasn’t there. Or he’d just left. 

They’d seen cigarette butts, not guaranteed to be Keith, but when coupled with skid marks from a bike clearly having drove away quickly, they had their suspicions. 

He burst into the theatre doors, expecting angry faces, rage emanating from Allura. 

Except, when he walked in, there wasn’t anyone but a single person. 

A single boy, sitting on the stage, looking straight ahead. 

“ _ Keith.”  _ Lance whispered, rushing forwards. The area around him reeked of cigarettes, but Lance couldn’t really find himself caring as he ran. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere, jesus  _ fuck, Keith-”  _

“Why are you here?” 

His voice made Lance stop. That wasn’t someone he recognized, not really. That wasn’t Keith. That wasn’t gruff, annoyed, happy, melancholy, tinged with laughter, that wasn’t anything Lance had ever heard before. 

That was rage. 

That was fear, that was  _ pain.  _

“ _ Why are you here?”  _ Keith repeated, and somehow, Lance felt that Keith wasn’t talking to him. 

And yet, Lance was tired. He’d been searching, and searching, and  _ searching,  _ and Shiro had been worried, and Pidge had been crying, and Hunk had been trying to take care of all of them and Lance was  _ tired.  _

Tired of worrying, tired of crying, tired of Keith trying to push him away. 

“What the fuck do you mean?” The bitterness in his voice surprised him, and it clearly shocked Keith, too. He turned around, violet eyes flashing. 

Clearly, Keith wanted a fight. He looked like a wild animal,  _ craving.  _

Craving something to take it out on, craving an emotion other than emptiness. 

And fuck, if Lance wasn’t craving too. They were both starved animals, both hurt people looking for  _ something.  _ Something to make them forget the shit that was happening in their homes, the shit happening in their minds. 

“Go away, Lance.” Keith was, for once, cold. He was ice, this time. 

This time, it was Lance who was fire. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Sparks flew, and Keith didn’t look away, even with the threat of being melted. He just stared straight at Lance, eyes haunted, eyes craving.

“Allura canceled play practice today.” Keith replied instead, still cold. 

And that,  _ that  _ pissed Lance off. 

“Do you know why?” He spat, even with the slight embarrassment curling in his gut. Lance had no idea, his phone had died after the 50th time calling Keith. “Because everyone,  _ everyone,  _ is searching for you. We’re all so fucking worried, and you’re just sitting here smoking? What the  _ fuck  _ are you doing?” 

Inwardly, Lance knew this wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing. He was supposed to hug him, to ask what happened, to take him home. 

But he couldn’t find the will in himself to do that. 

Again, Lance was tired. He’d been watching Shiro break down for hours, watched angry tears spill down Pidge’s face. He’d watched Hunk’s resolve crack with each place they went to and Keith wasn’t there, and Lance was just so fucking tired. He was  _ exhausted.  _

When Keith threw the first punch, Lance couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised. 

Keith was a fighter to his core, he was anger, he was broken. He wasn’t the kind of person to answer questions with words. He wasn’t the kind of person to think rationally, not when memories were flashing through his brain, not when he remembered his father, not when he remembered kids taunting him. In that moment, Lance was just another kid with a perfect family, looking at him not with concern, but with hate. He was just another kid that made him feel  _ wrong.  _

And Lance? 

He was tired of caring, of watching people slip away. 

So he ran towards the boy he was supposed to be dating, the boy who he honestly just wanted to tug close and never let go, and he fought back. 

In truth, he didn’t want to fight Keith. 

Keith didn’t really want to fight him, either. 

But both of them wanted to feel  _ something.  _ And anger was easy. It wasn’t complicated, like heartbreak, like sadness, like losing family, or never knowing family at all. 

The feeling of blood trickling down their faces as they stared at each other? 

That was easy. 

It was easy, to throw another punch. To curse and scream, to grapple and try to get it  _ out,  _ try to get the messy, complicated feelings  _ out.  _

What wasn’t easy? 

When tears started to mix into the blood. When Keith was above him, breathing heavily, and his eyes were red. 

When his tears fell onto Lance’s cheek, and neither of them had any idea what they were doing. 

When Keith fell to his knees, sobbing, clawing at his throat, at his chest, at whatever skin he could get ahold of to try to scratch out the pain. When Lance started crying, too, and they both just sat there, breaking.

Keith crashed onto Lance’s chest, hands curling into the bloodied fabric of his shirt. Lance just wrapped his arms around him, around this beautiful, broken boy. 

They sat there, and they cried. They cried, and cried, and cried. 

Cried for childhoods lost, cried for the loss of people that were always supposed to be in their lives. They cried because they were fucked up, because this entire  _ situation  _ was fucked up, and neither of them could really do anything about it but sit there. 

They cried because none of this was easy. 

Because then, at that moment, with two boys bloodied and holding each other, they understood one another. They understood that both of them were tired. Both of them were broken. 

And in that moment, both of them weren’t okay. 

In that moment, they _ let  _ themselves not be okay. 

In that moment, they just let themselves cry. 

They were both exhausted, then. 

But this time, they weren’t alone.

 

**_And today was a bad day. I just want someone to grab my face,_ **

**_Tuck my hair behind my ears, and say,_ **

**_Isn’t this silly and aren’t you beautiful?_ **

**_Isn’t this silly and aren’t you beautiful?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey, im kind of on time?   
> ish?   
> yay!  
> again, honestly, all of you guys's comments and kudos just makes me so happy and it makes me super driven to write this, so thank you all so much.   
> this chap was.. a lot  
> to write and im sure to read,, its pretty messy, i barely edited soo oPE 
> 
> again, i do not claim to know everyones individual experiences with this stuff, i only know my own experiences and how i write about them in this.   
> thank you all so, so much!   
> lyrics in this chap were from Tsunami by Told Slant,, which is honestly a sadboi ANTHEM
> 
> hmu on tumblr! : [here!](https://simon-says-nothing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> playlist for this fic: [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3cTWM4m8pO8gMDQYDG1sTt)


	16. Fenne Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry

It was a long time before anyone found them. And in that time, they seemed to come to some strange sort of understanding. No one else quite knew what happened in the hour that they were alone, only that when they were found, something had shifted. 

Marginally, maybe, but it’d still shifted. 

Nowadays, Lance took Keith home from school more often than not. 

Nowadays, they seemed to be able to communicate with barely a glance. 

Everyone else assumed that it was because they were dating, but Pidge felt something else had shifted. Something else was more than a little strange between the two of them, but it wasn’t romantic. Not yet, at least. But they couldn’t exactly express that, so Pidge just let everyone think that the reason why Lance and Keith suddenly became protective of each other was because of their “relationship.” 

It certainly made things easier, but still. Pidge was left to analyze alone, to try to see through the cracks between both Lance and Keith’s facade. 

Something had happened, and they were determined to figure it out. 

\---

_ When the tears stopped flowing, when Keith finally realized what he was doing, clinging to Lance like this, he stepped back. Practically fell backwards, really. But Lance just smiled, a strange, teary smile, his face still streaked with his own and Keith’s blood. And he just shrugged, and laughed. It was a bitter, remorseful, but honest laugh.  _

_ Keith was left to wonder about how such a boy came into his life.  _

\---

Pidge’s investigation started with Keith. He’d become quieter, these days. Quieter than usual, that is. He went from barely chipping in a sarcastic remark to not saying anything at all. 

When they confronted Shiro about Keith’s sudden change in mood, he just said, in a tired, sad tone,  that Keith hadn’t come home since the weekend. Once again, he just looked exhausted. Like he didn’t know what to do, what to think.

It was strange, seeing that much hopelessness on Shiro’s face. 

\---

_ They were sitting on the edge of the stage, legs dangling off as the two boys talked quietly. It was strange, how they went from beating each other to sitting and talking softly like this. But, Keith supposed, that was just how they functioned.  _

_ In that moment, nothing else seemed like it was valid unless it was brutal honesty. They didn’t seem to want to talk about trivial things. There was an understanding there.  _

_ That to say anything but the truth at the moment would be a violation of the strange truce they were in.  _

_ It was a game they played, trading truths like this.  _

_ “My dad drank a lot.”  _

_ Lance just hummed.  _

_ “Mine left when I was six.”  _

_ An understanding, then. That maybe these people weren’t so different. Maybe they were both a little fucked up, and maybe that was okay.  _

\---

Pidge watched them at lunch, as Lance would gesture wildly, as Keith idly turned his food around with a fork. 

They seemed..distant, to Pidge. It didn’t quite feel like how it had last week, before any of this happened. When Pidge, Hunk, Lance, and Keith were just a group of friends. Before complications like trauma, before old pasts got dug up, before Keith disappeared. Before Shiro found them just sitting on the stage, bruised and bloody, but smiling.  

There was a strange sort of cut-off, there. Like there was a line. 

Lance and Keith, and on the other side, everyone else. 

It hurt, Pidge was surprised to find. 

They missed their stupid friends. 

\---

_ At one point, they were laying down, staring at the ceiling. Staring at where Lance had once taken him to a secret area, where Keith first heard Lance sing.   _

_ Where they’d wandered through heaven, but nowadays, seemed to find themselves in hell.  _

_ “I hate her.” Keith remarked idly, Lance glancing over with curiosity in his eyes. “I hate Shiro, for making me see her.” His breath caught. “Do you ever just feel like all you know how to do is hate?” Keith turned on his side, then, looking at Lance with something in his eyes. A plea, maybe. A wish for someone to understand. “It’s like life is a circle, where all you do is run and run and run, and when something stops you, you have to just try to break it. Fight through, or get hurt.” He looked down, then, turning back to stare at the ceiling again.  _

_ Lance just hummed again, and somehow, that was comforting.  _

_ That was Keith’s truth, and it was understood.  _

_ It was their game, passing things back and forth. Murmuring secrets, and knowing it would be accepted. Not with pity, or sadness, just understanding.  _

_ There was no ‘I’m sorry’ here. Neither of them had any sort of need for that. Sometimes, all it took was a hum.  _

_ Pity was a useless emotion, and they both knew that.  _

\---

Pidge snapped when the whispering started. They didn’t want to watch Keith lean over, murmur something to Lance. They didn’t want to watch how Keith stopped ever even looking at them. 

Even in history, Keith had stopped passing notes. The airplanes stopped coming back. Nowadays, he just stared at Coran with a bored expression. 

For some reason, that made Pidge’s blood boil. Made rage simmer in their gut, mixing unpleasantly with the hurt already there. 

It was lunchtime, all of them sitting in silence as they stared at the auditorium below them, when Pidge snapped. 

“Keith?” 

A curious glance, and for some reason, that just made Pidge angrier. When they first met him, they thought they’d found someone who was similar. Who loved conspiracies and had the same fucked up sleep schedule, who enjoyed staying up late watching terrible alien movies from the 80s. They thought they’d found a best friend in Keith. Someone to turn to when Lance and Hunk were being, well, Lance and Hunk. Shared eye rolls, smirks as Lance was overdramatic for the millionth time. 

But nowadays, he didn’t even look at them. Besides this, this ridiculous curious glance just because Pidge finally said his name. 

In the end, they didn’t end up even saying anything. Pidge just got up, shaking their head, and left. Practically hopped down the ladder to the floor below. 

Lance, Hunk, and Keith didn’t say anything.  Even as the bell rang, they remained silent. 

What were they supposed to say? 

\---

_ “She half-raised me, you know. Mama, she was always so busy with our huge-ass family and a job to support us all. Abuela was the one that would tuck me in at night, the one who’d take me on walks when the sensory overload was kicking in with all the loud noises.”  _

_ They were both laying down, now. This game of theirs had a steady flow, now. It was strange, Keith thought, exchanging truths like this. He’d spent so much of his life alone, so much of it hidden or just not said to others, that finally  _ talking  _ was bizarre. Lance didn’t seem too affected by it, but Keith thought that might’ve been a lie. A facade, perhaps.  _

_ Lance was a far better actor than Keith was, and that was because Lance knew how to lie.  _

_ But here, on this stage, both of them too exhausted to try to hide anything anymore, it seemed like Lance was telling the truth. Everything about him screamed real in that moment. He wasn’t shouting or running around or laughing off anything. In this moment, Lance was just..Lance.  _

_ And that was more important to Keith than any secret he could give.  _

\---

Keith confronted Pidge about it eventually.  In history class, he finally decided to send a note back. 

All it read was this:    
_ Are you mad at me?  _

When Pidge received it, they looked up at him, and crumpled the paper in their fist. Their eyes quite clearly said: “No shit, Sherlock.” Keith winced, regret stabbing through him. 

He didn’t send anything else the rest of the period. Afterwards, Pidge stopped by his desk. They looked irritated, annoyed, but Pidge was never one to avoid confrontation. And Keith was never one to back down, so he stood up, and studied them for a moment. 

“Did I do something?” He asked, truly oblivious.  

Pidge shook their head, not in a denial, but in disbelief. 

“You’re a fucking idiot.” With that, they walked past him, muttering curses as they went. 

Coran, who had apparently seen all of that, was standing behind him. The old man put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, strangely comforting as he spoke. 

“You both stopped passing your strangely accurate airplanes around.” His teacher’s smile was hopeful. “I’ve never had to worry about Pidge getting distracted in class before. It’s not very often they make new friends, you see.”  

When Keith looked back at him, confusion, shock, and the slightest amount of comprehension in his gaze, Coran just smiled and retreated back into his room. 

Guilt wasn’t a foreign feeling, but it was heavier than he remembered. It sunk down, through his core, and reminded him of why he pulled away in the first place. 

\---

_ When the stories had run out, when all that they had left was soft breathing and stares, Lance and Keith were left to each other. All that remained in this strange space was the presence of the other next to them. Two people, sworn to hate each other.  _

_ Both of them had a soft smile on their face, and it was at that moment that fear struck through Keith’s core. The realization of all he’d shared, the ugly truths laid bare on the stage.  _

_ Survival instincts were a brutal alarm clock, but he was alright with finally being awake.  _

_ “Calm down, Mullet.” A smooth voice broke his thoughts, Lance staring at his now-tense form with a tired smile. “You know just as much about me.”  _

_ Sometimes, Keith forgot how perceptive Lance was. He forgot that, although Lance wore his emotions on his sleeve most times, he could still detect the slightest shift in his friends’ moods.  _

_ Friend.  _

_ Is that what they were?  _

_ His queries were interrupted by Lance continuing, “Don’t run now, Keith. We’ve both done our own fair share of that, haven’t we?”  _

_ Keith supposed Lance, the same Lance who he’d dismissed as an idiot the first time they’d met, the same Lance who cried over musicals and Cadbury chocolate; that same Lance could be pretty fucking smart sometimes.  _

_ His muscles, having been tensed for an escape, slowly relaxed. The warning bells in his brain were still firing rapidly, but when Lance smiled at him, he found the warnings were drowned out by something else. That something wasn’t quite something Keith was ready to deal with just yet, but, he assumed he would be eventually. Maybe later, when he wasn’t caught up in the same ridiculously blue eyes.  _

_ Maybe later, when it wouldn’t interrupt the fragile peace they had. Maybe later, when Lance didn’t smile happily, just  _ knowing  _ he’d won. Maybe later, after Lance had lied back down and sighed with relief as if they’d been locked in an intense battle that finally had ended.  _

_ “You’re alright. You know, for a bastard stuck in the 80s.”  _

_ ‘Yeah.’ Keith thought. ‘Maybe later.’   _

 

\---

Pidge was under the stairwell. They were curled up in a ball, fat tears dripping down their face. 

Keith sat down by them silently, not trusting Pidge to not run away if he said the wrong thing. He curled up in the same position as them, staring out to the rest of the school. The tardy bell came and went, and neither of them moved. 

Slowly, he took in a shaky breath. 

“I’ve never really liked someone before.” 

The Keith way functioned was blunt truths, trying to barrel through the emotions in the only way he really could.    
“I mean, I thought random guys in the foster system were hot sometimes? I’d get into stupid, messy, purely-physical relationships that only lasted for about a week at a time and then I’d be off, so. Never really, er-”

Pidge cut him off, a clearly grossed out look on their face. 

“Is there a point to this?” 

Keith bit his lip. “Yeah, sorry. Just- fuck.” He made a frustrated noise. Such was the way of someone far too used to fighting his way through problems rather than sitting down and talking. 

“My point is, I’ve never met anyone like Lance.” Saying that aloud felt strange. It was a different truth than the ones he’d told Lance, different from stories of his past, different than monotone recollections of trauma and abuse. It wasn’t a truth that hurt him, but at the same time, it felt like it _ could  _ hurt. 

“I’ve never cared what those other guys thought. I never gave two shits about whether or not they thought I did well in practice, or what they said to me in the middle of the night. I didn’t give a fuck, because it’s not like I would ever stick around for longer than maybe a month.” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “I never had any friends, either.” Keith looked at Pidge then. “I have the sort of personality where I focus way too fucking hard on certain things, certain people. I hate letting people in, but I also get too attached. And last week, I let Lance in. I did what I’d never planned on doing, and it scared me so fucking much, Pidge. I’m still scared. I’m still so fucking scared all the time, and I felt like I was about to let you in, about to let Hunk in, and that was too much. It was so much at one time, so I just did what I do best. I shoved you guys away. I ran, and Lance wouldn’t let me run away from him, so I just tried to stay as far away from you two as possible. And it was  _ stupid,  _ it was so fucking stupid but it’s all I knew how to do, all I know how to do even now. And I’m  _ sorry  _ Pidge, I’m so fucking sorry because I’ve  _ never  _ had friends before. I’ve never watched alien documentaries with someone, or hung out with someone just to hang out without the expectation of sex or a fight. I don’t know how to do  _ any  _ of this and I’m so  _ sorry-”  _

He was cut off by an armful of Pidge, their tears soaking his shirt. 

“Shut up, you stupid fucking emo.” They mumbled, wrapping their tiny arms around him and squeezing tight. Keith was at a loss for words, but he slowly wrapped his arms around them, as well. 

For a while, they sat there, Pidge crying, and Keith not really knowing what to do. Eventually, however, Pidge released him, staring up at him with snot running down their nose and glasses crooked.    
“You’re right.” They stated matter-of-factly, despite the shakiness of their voice. “You are a stupid bitch.” 

Keith winced, but they just continued on, 

“You’re a dumbass, but you’re also my best friend.” Their voice wavered slightly on the last part, and Keith’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He couldn’t even really comprehend that term, “best friend.” He could barely keep up with ‘friend.’ To his surprise, Pidge burst out into laughter.

“Yeah, I expected that,” They spat out in between cackling. “You’re  _ such  _ an emo stereotype. Deal with it, Gerard. We’re close now, whether you like it or not.” 

A hand was stuck out, Pidge’s face split into a bright, tear-streaked grin. As Keith took their hand, he thought he might like it very much. 

\---

It was later, around midnight, when Keith and Pidge had hung out and watched a few conspiracy videos, after the latter had gone home with a cheerful punch to Keith’s stomach. A warning of: “Pull this shit again and I’ll kill you.” It was later when he received a text from two different people, both of which had somehow wriggled their way into his life in different ways.

**_12:08 AM._ **

**Obnoxious:** KEITH you will not BELIEVE what hunk told me

**Obnoxious:** you actually talked to someone!! of ur own free will!! 

**Obnoxious:** im so proud :,) 

Keith rolled his eyes, about to open the next, when another text rolled in. 

**Obnoxious:** but seriously, i know that took a lot. i actually am really proud keith. 

For a moment, he was almost touched.

**Obnoxious:** pidge needed them a hunk like i have ;) 

Surprisingly, a laugh burst out of his mouth even through the irritation. Lance just seemed to have that effect, it seemed. 

He checked his other messages with the smile still lingering on his face. 

**Illuminati confirmed:** so, operation get-keiths-mouth-on-lances-dick has begun

**Illuminati confirmed:** are you ready? 

Even as his phone hit the floor, Keith couldn’t really help falling back onto his bed with the same warm feeling he had when he first met this strange group of people. 

He couldn’t help feeling that maybe, just maybe, he’d finally found his home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys. i know it's been forever, and i know i do this so much its probably so annoying and made a lot of you give up on this, haha. im sorry. this past month has kinda been absolute hell for me? i guess? so much shit is happening with friends and in general life and future and ive just been breaking down a lot lmao.  
> this has been my only solstice, writing this. but i barely had any time and when i did i often found myself too deep in a depressive episode to really dedicate much time to it. im so sorry ive let you guys down so many times. im trying to get better, i really am.  
> writing this for you guys and for me is one of the brightest parts of my life, so i thank you all so fucking much for sticking with me throughout my insane schedule.  
> i love you guys s o much. thank you. <3
> 
> p.s: the bromance between keith and pidge isnt highlighted enough, thanks for coming to my ted talk


	17. Queen

Eventually, Keith was going to have to deal with Shiro. He couldn’t keep just sleeping at Pidge’s and sometimes Hunk’s. He knew that. Logically, at least. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of unsaturated, raw _anger_.  Keith couldn’t help but feel betrayed.

His friends, unfortunately, wouldn’t drop it. Even Lance, who knew the most, still sent him looks during English when Shiro would stop by Keith’s desk and flounder. Pidge wasn’t so subtle:  just staring at him and saying, “Talk to him.”

The thing was, Keith didn’t _want_ to talk to him. He’d much rather seethe, because honestly, why the fuck would Shiro ever _do_ that? Why would he think that was okay?

He didn’t understand, and honestly, didn’t feel like trying to.

\---

Lance on the other hand  was determined. He walked through the halls whistling, winking at any strange looks he got. Keith was deposited safely in Pidge’s hands, which meant he could get what he, Hunk, and Pidge called “Operation Broganes” underway. Pidge was tired of Keith angrily eating all of their ramen, and Hunk felt terrible in general because he was far too kind for his own good.

Lance, quite frankly, was kind of pissed. He was pissed at Shiro, for not thinking about Keith. And honestly? He was kind of pissed at Keith, too.

Keith shouldn’t give up the family that finally _cared_ about him because of this, and Lance was determined to make sure he didn’t.

When he arrived at his destination, he knocked in what he thought was a polite version of “Let me in right now”.

Shiro opened the door, looking just as disheveled and tired as usual. There were three people behind him, and Lance’s eyebrows raised. Adam, one of the school’s math teachers, as well as Matt and Allura,  were all sitting there. In a quick analyzation, it seemed like Matt and Allura sat closer to each other than Adam, but they had the same face of concern as they looked at Shiro. Adam had similar fierce protectiveness that sort of reminded Lance of Keith, in a way.

Lance’s gaze flicked back to Shiro, as he realized he’d figured out what the entire school had been betting on for years, and smiled slightly. He hoped it looked supportive. Shiro deserved all of the love in the world, and the three behind him clearly wanted to give it.

“Er, can we talk?” He asked, trying to keep his eyes on Shiro and not the waves of protective love coming from the other three. A flicker of hope flew across Shiro’s face, and Lance felt a stab of empathy.

It was probably the first time in a week that he’d ever had hope about getting his brother back.

After a nod and a quick, “It’s okay,” to the others, Shiro closed the door behind him. The older boy placed a fake smile on his face, gesturing outwards. “Let’s go to the teachers’ lounge.” Lance followed him, trying to hum softly to get rid of the awkward silence. Shiro unlocked the lounge door with ease, walking in and sinking down on one of the plush couches they had in here. Inwardly, Lance felt envy for a minute, before remembering that teachers had to deal with high schoolers for eight hours a day.

Yeah, they probably deserved a couch.

Lance was quiet as he sat down, surveying the room for a minute before finally turning to Shiro.   
“You need to talk to Keith.”

Shiro, even though he obviously knew what this conversation was going to be about, instantly seemed to age five years. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

Lance pressed on. “Try harder. Start with an apology. His mom left him and his dad to rot in the desert, and she probably had her reasons, but he hasn’t seen her since he was a tiny kid and she was leaving him. Jumping her on him like that was shitty, Shiro. It was fucking shitty.”

Shiro opened his mouth to talk, but Lance cut him off. “Ah, no. I’m not done yet. Keith’s never had a family that gave a shit about him, and you betrayed that. He’s pretty fucking convinced that family is something fake, and that is _bullshit_. He’s-” He faltered for a moment, “He’s lucky he still has all his family members with him.” Lance took a shuddering breath. “Fix it, Shiro. Fucking fix it. Okay?”

Lance sucked in a breath, regarding Shiro for a minute. There were lines of stress there, but slowly, resolution began to creep onto his face. Determination. With a grin, Lance stood, walking to the door. He’d said what he meant to, and it seemed to work.

“Hey, Lance?” Lance stopped.

“Yes?”

“Do you-” Shiro broke off. “Nevermind.”

A soft smile made its way onto Lance’s face.

“Night, Shiro.”

“Goodnight, Lance.”

 

\---

 

It had been too long since Lance had heard Keith sing. No, he didn’t know where that thought came from, only that he knew it was true.

It’d also been far too long since he’d heard him laugh.

Dragging Keith, Pidge, and Hunk to a karaoke place was hard. He had to lure Keith and Pidge with the promise of food, but Hunk was excited. Hunk was the only person Lance could really count on in this cruel world.

The second they walked in, Keith’s face; previously lit up from imagining pizza, fell flat.

“Lance. What the fuck is this?”

Lance winked. “You’ll see, Mullet. You shall see.”

“I can _hear_ plenty of out of tune middle schoolers.”

“Shh, Keith. Shhhh. That’s part of the ambiance.”

Keith was too flabbergasted to come up with a witty response, so Lance simply continued to lead the group further into the fray. He’d already reserved a soundproof room, making even the catcalls from some of his old musical comrades as they saw him and Keith drowned out. Mostly.

Keith looked annoyed as they sat down, Pidge sitting next to him with a bored look on their face. Hunk, a blessing as he was, looked genuinely excited.

“Gentlemen and People, welcome.” Pidge flashed him a smirk at that, and Lance winked back. “It is time to test which one of you is my second in command as the most-angelic voice in our party.”

Pidge rolled their eyes. “Or time to see if you’ll get dethroned.”

“Never, Pidgeon. Never.”

Lance looked over at Keith, who looked considerably irritated. Keith gestured to ‘outside’, and Lance sighed. “Excuse us, kind patrons. Mullet here has a few complaints.”

As soon as they shut the door, Keith leveled him with a glare that could freeze an ocean.

“Is this because of that time when you stalked me?” He spat.

“I didn’t _stalk_ you, I was just walking-”

“And you stopped walking and watched me.”

“Irrelevant.” Lance continued even as Keith began to protest, “No, this isn’t because of that. I just.. Shit’s been rough this past couple of weeks, and I wanted us to have a day where we can just fuck around and have fun. You know?” It was kind of scary, how quickly Lance gave Keith the truth.

These days, it seemed impossible to lie to him.

“Okay.” Keith agreed almost scarily quickly, turning on his heel and walking back into the room.

Lance watched him go with an astonished smile, shaking his head and following the boy back in.

 

\---

It was established fairly quickly that Pidge was extremely tone deaf.

Keith was trying his best to hold in his winces, he really was. Lance could credit him for that.

However, Lance himself? He couldn’t hold in the obvious shudders, especially as Pidge hit a particularly sour, “ _I wanna dance with somebody!”._ Hunk had on his best supportive smile, but all of them knew exactly why Pidge would never step onto the stage.

Once Pidge was done butchering Whitney Houston, it was Lance’s turn. Pidge was smirking as they passed him on their way to sit down, and Lance raised an eyebrow. They leaned in, and quickly murmured, “Choose Queen.”

He sent them a confused stare, but they just winked and sat down next to Keith. Keith was sitting on the edge of his seat, violet eyes boring into Lance’s. His stare was something Lance had seen before, but refused to acknowledge. It was interest, it was desire.

He gulped dryly.

Like a fool, Lance took Pidge’s advice. And the second the song started up, Keith closed his eyes in a strange form of bliss.

‘ _Fuck.’_

The piano started, and Lance brought his mouth to the mic. Abruptly, he was hit with a need. An uncanny desire to prove _something_ to Keith. Maybe to prove musical theatre was better, but no. Lance knew it wasn’t that. He wanted Keith to look at him. He wanted Keith to open his eyes, and _look._

_“Can anybody find me somebody to love?”_

There was a reason Lance got leads in musicals.

There was a reason Pidge suggested Queen.

Lance McClain had a _hell_ of a range.

“ _Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little,_

_Can barely stand on my feet!”_

Lilac eyes popped open, and a smirk grew on Lance’s face. There were very few things Lance knew he could do. Singing had always been one of them.

“ _Take a look in the mirror and cry,_

_Lord, what you're doing to me.”_

Keith’s reactions were addictive. Lance responded in kind, curling his voice, hitting the high notes just to watch that mouth drop open. Slowly, Keith’s eyes were turning cloudy. With what, Lance wasn’t sure he wanted to say. If he acknowledged it, would it break his hold on the boy in front of him?

“ _I have spent all my years believing in you_   
_But I just can't get no relief, Lord!_   
_Somebody, somebody, ooh somebody, somebody_ _  
Can anybody find me somebody to love?” _

Hunk and Pidge were grinning and waving their arms around as if at a concert. But Lance could barely spare them a glance. His full attention was on Keith, and Keith’s was on him.

 _“I work hard every day of my life_   
_I work 'til I ache in my bones_ _  
At the end of the day_

 _I take home my hard earned pay all on my own_ _  
_ _I get down on my knees!”_

It was as if Lance’s voice was a spell, and Keith was deeply under it. He’d started to mouth the words, and Lance almost wanted to grab him and drag him up there with him. For a minute, he entertained the idea, but continued to sing, his eyes sliding shut as he truly got into it.

 _“And I start to pray_   
_'Til the tears run down from my eyes_   
_Lord, somebody, somebody, ooh somebody_ _  
Please, can anybody find me somebody-_ ”

The music stopped. Just, cut out. Silence began to fill the room, before a familiar riff started up.

Lance looked to the side in confusion, but it was a mistake. His mouth dropped open in a strange sort of wonder, awe, _want._  

He was used to seeing Keith’s eyes full of fire. But this? This was _molten._

The son of a bitch  had pushed the sleeves of his flannel up, and his stupid hair was in a ponytail that exposed _far_ too much smooth pale skin.

Keith placed a hand on his chest, and fucking _pushed_ him off the platform. Lance stumbled on his way down, barely catching himself as he continued to gawk at the boy in front of him. ‘ _This isn’t fair._ None _of this is fair.’_

When the song finally registered in Lance’s brain, he  short-circuited.

“ _Get down, make love._

_Get down, make love.”_

It was these times, these times in which Keith had abrupt bouts of confidence, that truly threw Lance off. He’d blush furiously as the slightest compliment, and yet, here was, singing _this_ Queen song with the utmost conviction.

“ _Get down, make love._

_Get down, make love!_

_You take my body,_

_I’ll give you heat.”_

The worst part, quite possibly, was when Keith opened his eyes and stared Lance down. It was a challenge, it was retribution for Lance singling Keith out earlier. Lips curled into a smirk as he sang, his eyes never once leaving Lance.  And _god,_ Lance had always known Keith was attractive. But this? Lance had never seen Keith outright sinful. Not like this.

“ _You say you're hungry,_

_I give you meat._

_I suck your mind,_

_You blow my head.”_

It was at that moment that Keith ran his fingers down the mic as if it something else. It was at that moment that Keith fucking _winked._

No. Nope, no. Lance couldn’t do this. He stood up abruptly, hoping his er.. _issue_ wasn’t too noticeable. In a moment of panic, he kicked out the plug to the karaoke machine in one single, not-at-all fluid motion.

“Welp!” His voice squeaked. “This has been just great, but I really ought to be headed home!” In his rush to get out, he made the mistake of accidentally catching Keith’s eye. The bastard was smirking, like he _knew_ he’d won. Which yeah, Lance could admit defeat. But it was still an asshole move.

 _‘Fuck you.’_ Lance thought inwardly, pushing past the confused faces of Pidge and Hunk to the door. Well, really mostly Hunk’s confused face. Pidge had an almost identical smirk to Keith’s on their face.

“I’ll see you all in the morrow!”

He pretended to ignore the feeling of Keith’s gaze digging into his back.

 

\---

 

The second Lance had left, and a bewildered Hunk trailing after him, Pidge turned to Keith.

“So far, the operation is working.” They said, grinning. Keith turned accusative eyes onto them.

“So that’s what you whispered in his ear. Queen? Really?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

He didn’t respond to them, simply glaring and looking away. Pidge laughed loudly.

“C’mon Gerard. Let’s go brainstorm step two, hm?”

“I hate you so much.”

“You can’t hate the best wing-man in the world!” Their laugh was gleeful as they walked out of the cursed room.

Keith chose not to reply to them in order to protect his own sanity.

\---

In the end, it wasn’t any sort of intervention that brought Keith home.

In the end, it was after play practice, when Keith was smoking peacefully just outside of the theatre. He had meant to ask Pidge to stay at their house that night; he knew he _could_ just show up, but it felt wrong.

Keith was tired of feeling like a burden.

So instead of accepting Shay’s offer of a ride,(Lance had been avoiding him like a coward), instead of calling someone, calling anyone, he sat there like the stubborn asshole he was and smoked. His throat burned, and the smell was choking. But still, he didn’t move. It wasn’t until he heard a cough behind him that he realized his fatal mistake.

Shiro was always the last one out of the auditorium on days that the musical practiced. Which, coincidentally, was the same days as the rep show. Keith’s blood froze as he heard the footsteps stop, as he heard the soft murmur of,

“Keith.”

He immediately made to stand up, to jump on his bike and get the fuck out, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Keith, please. I’m sorry.” Keith writhed out of the touch violently, wrenching his whole body away from Shiro. Rage, hot and familiar, boiled inside him. It was fueled by betrayal, fueled by deep pain cutting into him.

He didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to forgive him, didn’t want to _deal_ with the pain settling in his throat.

“Yeah? Well me fucking too. I’m sorry you felt the need to bring her back into my life. I’m sorry you didn’t even _think_ of talking to me. I’m sorry I _ever_ had the stupid thought that maybe, just maybe, I had a brother.”  His voice was poison, even as it caught at the end of the sentence.

Shiro’s eyes were filled with something akin to regret, something akin to loss. Among the anger, among the hurt, a slight touch of regret touched Keith, too. It was quickly overshadowed, but Keith still cursed it.

“We fucked up. We really, _really_ fucked up. My family- no, _our_ family; we’ve always had to stick with each other. It was always just the three of us. Most of our relatives are dead. Your mother contacted us, said the foster home directed her to us. We thought- we thought it would help. Thought it would bring.. Closure? I don’t know. Cherishing every bit of family left is just how we’ve always functioned. So yeah, we didn’t think. We didn’t.”  At this point, Shiro had sat down, looking up at Keith with the inexplicable kind of earnestness that could make anyone pause. “And I’m sorry. I’m so, _so_ sorry. I’ve never had a brother before. I’ve never known what it was like to have a family member outside of my parents.”

The honesty in Shiro’s voice shocked Keith. He didn’t..he didn’t know how to handle this. Rage still boiled, but at the same time, Keith missed Shiro. Missed his foster parents.

He missed his _family._

Slowly, Keith sat back down, facing Shiro. His voice was shaky when he spoke. “Y’know, it’s funny. I figured the feeling of no one giving a shit about you would be normal? It was my normal, at least. Every home I went to, they always sent me back with a list of reasons of why I was unlovable. But I come here, to this strange, crazy fucking town, where you give me a room, and I’m given a _passion_ for once in my life. I’m given friends, given people that don’t look at me like I’m trash. And it’s just weird, y’know? It’s fucking crazy. But I see _her_ face, and it all comes crashing back down. Like this whole town, this whole experience was just some dream, and she was the wake-up call.” He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to control his breathing. “It fucking sucked, Shiro. It fucking _sucked.”_

Keith could feel the lump in his throat, the prick at the corners of his eyes. He dug his teeth into his lip, but to no avail. “Fuck.” Fight or flight kicked in, and he made to move before Shiro saw anything.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have the chance. Shiro was already there, crushing him in a hug. He was murmuring apologies like a distant prayer.  Keith felt the pricks turn into water rolling down his cheeks at a rate he couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Gradually, Keith brought his arms around Shiro as well.

It wasn’t complete forgiveness, not yet.

But it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! im a little late but not a month this time so yay??? tbh that scene is something that ive had in my mind since i started this fic!  
> songs used were somebody to love by queen, and get down, make love by queen! 
> 
> yall been knew this shit was m for a reason,,, rip lance 2k18 
> 
> also vld ends in 3 days im so fUCKING EMOTIONAL AAA  
> pls hit me up on tumblr if you wanna cry about these boys: [here!](https://simon-says-nothing.tumblr.com/)  
> playlist for this fic: [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3cTWM4m8pO8gMDQYDG1sTt)


	18. Peach Pit

Keith was starting to get annoyed. It was irritating, when Lance would continue to skirt around him like a frightened mouse. Was it a mistake? Singing that? 

Yeah, he might’ve gotten a little overboard. That was likely. But it wasn’t as if Lance hadn’t started it. 

Or maybe Pidge started it. He regretted ever telling them earlier in the week that he had a  _ thing  _ for Lance’s voice. And especially Queen. 

Lance might claim that Elton John is the best musician ever to live, but Keith personally felt like that crown goes to Freddie Mercury. Goes to Queen. 

(Yes, Pidge had pirated Bohemian Rhapsody. And yes, Keith cried.)

After a particularly skittish lunch, Keith decided he should probably corner Lance. See, he was never one to be careful with emotions. Not one to stop and think about what he was doing. So really, when all he did was grabbed Lance’s arm and drag him off to the side, it wasn’t really thought-through. Lance’s initial panic was to be expected. 

“What the hell Keith?” He spat out, looking at once both agitated and nervous. Keith rolled his eyes.

“We need to talk.” 

“Do we?” Lance’s voice had turned squeaky, the way that it did when he started to become anxious. Keith realized with a painful start that he’d begun to notice far too many details about Lance McClain.

“ _ Yes,  _ Lance. Why are you avoiding me?” 

Trying to make eye contact with Lance turned out to be a futile attempt. The boy’s eyes seemed glued to the floor. 

“I’m not avoiding you.” He mumbled, but it was weak-willed. Keith had to restrain from strangling him. 

“ _ Yes,  _ you  _ are.  _ Is it because of the karaoke thing?” His voice dropped slightly at the end, Keith’s own anxiety catching up to him. It was a mistake, he’d read the situation completely wrong. Panic was a crawling creature, trying to fight its way out of his throat. 

“No!” It was funny, how often Keith was able to see through Lance’s lies nowadays. “Besides, it was just a show, right?” With that, everything froze. 

The easiest way to get rid of panic, it seemed, was to poison it with disappointment. Dread. And a touch of realization.

“For those guys in the other room across from us?  And Hunk?” 

_ ‘I am such a fucking idiot.’ _

A sinking stomach was a common feeling, but not one Keith had ever associated with Lance. 

“Keith?” Lance’s voice was tinged with worry now. 

“Yeah.” The sound of his own voice felt foreign to Keith. Especially among the strange feeling of loss. Regret. But why would he have lost something he never had in the first place? It’s just as Lance said. 

“Just a show.” 

Keith repeated the words to himself, even as he walked away. 

Perhaps, when he’d said yes to this, to faking this, it’d been a mistake. He didn’t want just a show. 

He wanted  _ Lance.  _

 

\---

 

Pain was something Keith was used to. But over a boy? 

That was different. That was..frustrating. 

Overall, it hurt. It was a different kind of hurt, though, and that’s what bothered him. 

Dread was also a common feeling, and it heightened as he walked through the doors to the theatre. 

Lance was sitting on the edge of the stage, and another stab of pain went through him at the sight. On instinct, he went to sit next to him. It was too late before he realized his mistake. By then, he was already there, and Lance was already greeting him with a smile that seemed far too tight on his face. Fake. 

Everything was all fucking  _ fake.  _

“Hey, Mullet. Do you know why only we were called?” 

Keith froze. 

“What?”

“Yeah? Lotor and Shay aren’t coming today. I thought you knew?” 

When Keith shook his head, Lance laughed a little. An attempt at lightheartedness. “Wow, can’t even remember the rehearsal schedule? How are you supposed to know your lines?” Lance nudged him with his shoulder, a grin on his face. 

But even that felt strained. 

Why had Keith done it? Why did he never  _ think?  _ Their entire dynamic, everything, it had shifted exponentially. And it was all because of him. 

As Lance’s face turned into concern, a soft, “Keith?”, on his lips, all he could think was this: 

‘ _ I hate myself.’  _

Lance was reaching toward him, but Keith stood up abruptly, turning to walk away. However, he would never be that lucky. 

Allura walked in at that moment, looking a little frazzled as she carried her bags into the theatre. 

“Ah, excellent! Let’s begin with a bit of a warm up, hm?” 

Doing a vocal warm up was strange with only three people, but with Allura there to ease the tension, it was less awkward than it could have been. Keith hummed and shouted along with them, even as he  caught Lance’s eye. 

A soft smile. 

Maybe, just maybe, a sign that it was going to be okay. 

A few bippity bippity bops later, Allura was talking to them again. 

“So, tonight we’re doing what’s called an intimacy rehearsal. I’m sure you’re both..aware of the relationship Hal and Cath have?” She winked, because she thought what everyone else thought. She thought  _ fake  _ was real. So to her, this wouldn’t be hard.

To her, Lance and Keith’s immediate nervousness was just fear of embarrassing themselves. To her, _ they  _ were real. In a relationship. 

Lance spoke up first, as Keith was currently unable to form coherent words. All that was running through his brain was  _ panic.  _

“Intimacy rehearsal?” Lance knew what it was. Keith could guarantee he did.    
That’s why his voice sounded so choked. 

Keith didn’t know what it was, but he could sure as hell guess. They were rehearsing Act 1, scene 3. 

The kissing scene. 

Their director simply looked between them, raising an eyebrow as if to say, ‘ _ Really?’ _ . 

“So!” Allura did her signature clap, turning to them with a bright smile. “Open to page 26. Keith, take a moment to get into character, and start with ‘So, Hal.’” 

Getting into character, for Keith, wasn’t difficult. Cath was barely different from himself. They were similar in more ways than one, and Keith had always loved that about her. Including the fact that they both sucked at love, at relationships. Both were wary, scared of feelings. And both had those feelings towards Lance. Towards Hal. These days, it was hard for Keith to figure out the difference. 

“So, Hal.” 

Cath was drunk, this scene being right outside of a funeral reception gone a tad crazy. Hal was, too. 

Lance looked at Keith, neither of them having their scripts in hand. 

They had had these lines memorized ages ago. 

“Yeah?” A little breathy, inclined to something. A step closer. Keith felt a smirk grow, edged on by Cath’s confidence. 

“What do you do for sex?” 

Lance was also incredibly similar to Hal. He had the same incredulousness, the same stuttering and over exaggeration. The same charm that came from someone who felt everything around them intensely and wonderfully all at once. So when he practically coughed out, 

“What?”, Keith thought it was..cute. And god, what the hell was up with that? 

“At your conferences.” He provided some context, inching closer. The same lazy smirk painted across his features, even as Lance just stuttered more. 

“Uh, I uh-” 

“Isn’t that why people hold conferences? Travel. Room service. Tax-deductible sex in big hotel beds.”    
See, if this was  _ just  _ Keith, he’d be stuttering, probably. Be scared, be nervous. Especially since he was talking to Lance. But Cath was there, too. That same fire of confidence in his soul. 

Lance was starting to get more used to the sudden forwardness, even as a nervous laugh tumbled out of his lips.    
“Maybe. I don’t know.” 

“So what do you do? All you guys.” 

The nervousness was starting to float away. Keith recognized the expression on Lance’s face. It was the same one when he was trying to pick up random girls, the same one when he sent random finger guns or complimented someone. And yet, it was also..genuine. There was still a hesitancy there, still a realization that _ Keith  _ was flirting with him. 

“Well, we are scientists.” 

Keith stepped closer. There was barely a few inches between them. Keith knew his breath hit Lance’s neck with his next words because he  _ saw _ the goosebumps.  

“So?” Was his voice always that breathy?    
Was he always so forward?    
  
Did it matter? 

“So there’s a lot of experimentation.” Lance’s voice was low, but still tinged with that slight nervousness. Still so very  _ Lance.  _ In that moment, everything about him was addicting. In that moment, Cath’s confidence and his own resignation to his own feelings reigned supreme. 

“I see.” His voice was a whisper. 

His voice was a whisper, and Lance’s lips were just as soft as he imagined. 

There was a moment, there, where the spell broke. For a moment, it was just Lance and Keith, and they were kissing, and everything felt  _ right.  _ A million different details floated through his brain, a million thoughts that didn’t even  _ matter right now.  _

He’d always thought that the movies saying kissing ‘that’ person felt like sparks was fake. And maybe it was. 

Because right now, all Keith felt was fire. 

An exhale of breath. Lance falling away, and Keith chasing his lips. 

“Huh.” Lance whispered, and Keith thought that the breathlessness in his voice was comforting, in a way. 

They were still acting. Still in a scene. And yet, why did it feel so truthful when Keith murmured:

“That was nice.” 

“Really?” 

God, Keith wanted to kiss the uncertainty off his face. 

“Yes.” 

Keith knew the next line. Of course he knew the next line. And yet, it felt like a savior, felt like something he  _ needed.  _ Something to get back there. 

“Again?” Lance asked, and Keith barely heard his response of ‘ _ Yes’ _ , before they were crashing together again. This time, he learned how Lance’s lips parted in surprise. How that felt, How it felt to feel soft, chestnut hair in his fingers. How it felt to be kissing  _ Lance.  _

When they parted again, Lance was smiling. 

“I always liked you.” He breathed, and Keith felt those three words in every part of his body. 

“You did?” The nervousness was in his tone, now. 

But Lance was used to nerves, and he was used to calming them. 

“Even before I knew you. I’d catch glimpses of you when you visited your dad’s office at school. I wanted to talk to you, but I thought, no, you do not flirt with your doctoral adviser’s son. “ 

It was then that realization began to settle, bit by bit. Keith tried to hold on to the fact that he had just  _ kissed Lance,  _ but the truer, colder understanding of the fact that this was still acting was settling in. 

They were acting. It wasn’t real. 

Another constant reminder that everything with Lance was fake. 

He still tried to press on, 

“Especially when your adviser’s crazy.” 

Lance, stupid, perceptive Lance, had easily caught on to the fact that something had shifted.

“Especially then.” 

This was supposed to be light. Supposed to be a scene of love. But Cath was slipping through his fingertips. Fear was setting in.

“You came here once. Four years ago. Remember?” Why did he sound so  _ sad?  _

“Sure I do. I was dropping off a thesis for your dad. Jesus, I was nervous.” But it didn’t sound like he was nervous about a thesis. Lance’s voice, soft, and caring, was practically hurting now.

“You looked nervous.” 

‘ _ I am nervous. I’m scared.’  _

“I can’t believe you remember that.” 

It was almost the end of the scene. The end of whatever it was that just happened. 

“I remember you.” Keith’s voice was barely a whisper, now, even as he moved closer. “I thought you seemed...Not boring.” 

When their lips met again, it was barely a second before Keith tore away. 

And in that moment, everything came crashing down. They were in the theatre. They were in a  _ fake fucking relationship.  _

This was just supposed to be acting. This was just supposed to be a stupid after school club, one that he only signed on for his foster parents. 

Lance was just supposed to be the annoying, loud boy who cried over coke and cadbury chocolate. 

And Keith? 

Keith was just supposed to be the same kid who was rejected by every foster family, who was sent back after a few months. 

None of this was supposed to happen.  _ Lance  _ wasn’t supposed to happen. 

He didn’t hear Allura go over notes. He didn’t see Lance’s constant worried looks. 

He didn’t see anything that wasn’t supposed to be there. 

What he did see?

The blurring of scenery as he ran from that stage. 

Just like weeks ago, just like he was  _ supposed  _ to, Keith ran. 

That was the only thing, then, that felt real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOPDIDOOP THEY KISSED BUT I WOULDNT BE ME IF IT WAS ACTUALLY GOOD AHAHA  
> DISCLAIMER: I DONT OWN THE LINES THEY SAY FROM THE PLAY PROOF!!ALL CREDIT GOES TODAVID AUBURN!! 
> 
> so yeah, season 8. didnt happen. who is she? don't know her!  
> even though she dEFINITELY didnt happen, im still gonna be updating so no worries there! just because the show is over doesn't mean this fic is! love you guys <3
> 
> in all seriousness, no i didnt like season eight. i have plenty of reasons, and if youd like to debate or rant or simply exchange memes hit me up on tumblr: [here!](https://simon-says-nothing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> playlist for this fic: [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3cTWM4m8pO8gMDQYDG1sTt)


	19. Elliott Smith

_I'm a junkyard full of false starts_

_And I don't need your permission_

_To bury my love under this bare lightbulb_

_\--_

Things were dark. That was as simple as Lance could put it.

Things were just..dark.

He hadn’t seen Keith in four days. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, really. Shouldn’t be. He’d gone more than four days without seeing Hunk, or Pidge. Hell, he’d gone eighteen years of his life without seeing Keith.

But did that really matter?

Did anything?

Keith hadn’t been at school, or at play practice. Opening night was in two weeks, and he wasn’t around. Allura was starting to get frustrated, and she’d already yelled at Lance before. Told him to ‘corral his boyfriend’.

Boyfriend.

They hadn’t even done anything to convince people of their charade.

To be frank, Lance couldn’t remember why they were doing it in the first place.

 

\---    

_The moon is a sickle-cell_

_I'll kill you in time_

_Your cold white brother alive in your blood_

_Like spun glass in your sore eye_

_\---_

The smell of cigarette smoke had always been one familiar to Shiro. But the absolute stench radiating out of Keith’s room?

That was new.

At this point, Shiro didn’t give a shit about knocking. The door to Keith’s room flew open, and yet, Keith didn’t even look up.

Looking around the space proved to be a rather depressing exercise.

Cigarette butts, smoked down to the filter, lay around the room in a disarray. There was an ashtray in one corner, but that had been overfilled long ago by the looks of it. It also seemed that Keith had simply stopped trying at one point, choosing instead to just throw the remains wherever. He was lucky that none of them had burned the house down.

Piles of clothes littered the entire room, dirty and clean mixed. A script was tossed haphazardly at the very edge of the room, near Shiro’s feet. He picked it up with a frown. The title of the play had been scratched out with marker, and in general, the title page seemed filled with angry, dark scribbles.

He finally decided to look at Keith.

Keith was, in a word, pathetic. He was laying on his bed, a cigarette not even lit poking out of his mouth. The term ‘eyebags’ seemed insufficient. Offhandedly, Shiro thought they looked more like eye-suitcases. His clothes, Shiro noticed with a start, were the same raggedy, old clothes he had worn when he first moved in.

A wave of sadness crashed over Shiro, and he meant to ask ‘are you okay’, or ‘hey’, but all that came out was this:

“How do you even get this many cigarettes? You’re seventeen.”

Keith’s head lolled to the side to stare at him. And instantly, Shiro could tell this was worse than something petty, or just regular depression. Keith’s eyes were..vacant.

As if something had carved out his soul.

“Birth certificate’s fake.”

Even his voice sounded void. Shiro tried to act surprised by this information, but he really wasn’t. He moved over to the bed, wincing at the smell. Shoving aside some cigarettes, he sat down, staring at Keith.

“How’d you manage that?”

Keith’s head moved back to its previous position, staring at the ceiling.

“Paid a guy to do it when I ran away from my last home. Thought an extra year might give me time to get a job or something before they kicked me.”

A now-familiar feeling shot through Shiro, one he couldn’t help but feel when he looked at Keith sometimes. Protectiveness, deep and surprising in its strength.

“Hmm. So when’s your real birthday?”

“October 23rd.”

Almost three months ago, then. He’d have to pass this information to Pidge at some point.

“Is Keith your real name?” Shiro meant to be joking, but Keith just hummed and said:

“Akira.”

Normally, Shiro would be grateful, surprised at the amount of information Keith was giving away freely. But he couldn’t find it in himself to be. This wasn’t a sign of trust. This was simply a sign of giving up. Keith didn’t really care about much of anything at the moment, probably a coping mechanism to deal with the pain.

Shiro didn’t know exactly what happened, but with how the way Lance had been looking lately, he assumed it had something to do with the two of them. But he figured bringing up Lance wouldn’t do any good at the moment, so instead he took out part of the reason why he burst into Keith’s safe, disgusting haven.

“Well, this came in for you. The name on the outside makes more sense, now, I suppose.” From his pocket, Shiro fished out an envelope. On top of it, in neat, swooping letters, read:

 _For Akira._ And then, on the bottom, in tinier script: _(Keith.)_

“You don’t have to read it. Hell, you could burn it. But, uh, not with a cigarette, okay? Mom and Dad are starting to get pissed.”

Keith looked at him, and then looked at the letter in his hand.

In the depths of the vacancy, a flicker of life showed in those eyes.

Hope flared in Shiro’s chest. He stood up, looking at Keith with a sad sort of smile.

“I love you, kid.”

Keith didn’t say anything, but for a moment, the void was completely chased away by something else. An emotion, of some sorts.

Whatever it was, it was enough.

\---

 

_Dear Akira,_

_I suppose you prefer Keith now. That’s fine. I don’t have any authority to tell you what you should or shouldn’t be called. I do, or at least I think, have the authority to apologize. And Keith, I am so, so sorry. I never meant for you to grow up without a mother. Without a father. I never meant for you to grow up alone. I should have been there. I could trouble you with all of the reasons why I left, but I don’t think you’d care to read that. It doesn’t really matter, in the end. I should have been your mother. I think of you every single day. I hope you don’t think of me too often. I would never want you to think too long on me. All I ask of you is to please know that you were never, ever at fault. I wanted to stay with you. You deserve to be loved. You never deserved being alone._

_I have wanted to visit you for some time now. But this family was the first to ever contact me. I thought it was of your accord. That is the only reason I came. Well, partially. I am also selfish. I wanted to see you so very badly. I had had this image of you as a baby in my arms for so long, that when you stood there, looking so alive and so old, I didn’t know what to say. I think, for the most part, I wanted to hold you in my arms again. I wanted to shield you from the hurts of the world. And yet, it was me that hurt you. A thousand sorry’s would never make up for that. I realize this. You most likely hate me, and that is fine. I cannot say I never want to see you again, because, in truth, I would very much like to be apart of your life. But I am not stupid, and I do know I was never the person you needed in life. But I’d like to try to be. I don’t expect you to talk to me. I don’t expect anything. But if you want, and only if you want, feel free to contact me someday. My information is enclosed below._

_My only request for you, Akira, my son, is to know that I didn’t leave because of you. I want, no,_ **_need_ ** _you to know that you deserved so much more. You are deserving of love. You are deserving of being surrounded by people who love you. Please don’t let go of the people who love you. And of those you yourself love. My only wish is to see you in love someday, and with people who love you. With people that won’t leave. I hope you have found people that aren’t as weak as me._

_Finally, I want you to know I love you. I love you, my son. I love you so much._

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

 

  * __Krolia.__



 

\---

 _While the moon does it's division_ _  
_ _You're buried below_ _  
_ _And it's coming up roses everywhere_   
You've gone red roses fall in love

\---

Keith had been at school all day, and Lance hadn’t said a single word to him. He’d had the opportunity to, sure. English happened. Keith was there, looking as sullen and emo as usual. There was something different, however. His usual solemnity was overshadowed by something else. Vacancy. Like there was nothing there.

It scared Lance, but as with most things in his life, he shoved it down to deal with later.

His hair was up in a ponytail today, and that did strange things to Lance’s stomach. There were dark bags under Keith’s eyes.

Lance had heard Shiro murmur something to Keith about fixing his ‘suitcase’ problem, and that had only made Lance even more confused. And extremely anxious. Was Keith moving?

Keith had been absent from school for an entire week. Now he was here,  yet Lance couldn’t do anything.

Every time he looked at him, Lance had to resist the urge to touch his lips.

At lunch, Keith had sat next to Pidge, only chiming in to reply to his best friend’s conversation. Even those replies sounded strange, though. Empty.

He talked to Hunk sometimes too. But he acted as if Lance wasn’t there.

And then now, here at play practice. Allura was lecturing Keith about how they had a single week until opening, about how irresponsible he was, about how he’d royally fucked up.

Keith didn’t say anything, not until she was done. When Allura was finished, staring at him with fire in her eyes, Keith just nodded, and sat down.

Allura seemed flabbergasted, staring after Keith with anger in her eyes. But there was something else, too. Something Allura wouldn’t be able to hide for anyone, because that was just how she functioned.

Concern.

As Keith walked by Lotor, the taller boy remarked something to him.

What happened next was a strange sequence of events.

Keith froze. And then, barely a moment later, Lotor was on the ground, clutching his nose.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He spat, blood dripping through his fingers.

When Keith didn’t say a word, simply moving back to sit down, Lotor shot back up.

From there, it was a mess.

Lotor and Keith were both on the ground, fists flying. Keith’s vacant expression that he’d had all day had begun to fade, replaced by rage. Replaced by anger, and, something else too. Something raw, and something Lance didn’t want to look at anymore.

Pain.

Neither of them were stopping, and Allura had started shouting, jumping down to try to tear them apart. Shay was crying, also moving to stop the two beating each other.

And Lance?

He was frozen. Frozen by the look on Keith’s face. Something he had put there, somehow.

Maybe, in a more logical time, he’d be able to think of other reasons for Keith to be acting this way. But at this exact moment?

Lance only felt guilt, raw and tearing.

Guilt, coupled with the stark realization of just how much he missed Keith.

He missed acting with Keith.

He missed the jokes, the banter. He missed the playful teasing, and he missed Keith’s smile. He missed Keith’s laugh; rare, but beautiful.

When had he lost all of that?

When had they gone so dark?

Was it when they started this ridiculous charade? Was it karaoke? Was it just last week?

Maybe it was when simple attraction started to give way to something else. Maybe when Lance saw Keith mesmerized by Lion King. Maybe when they walked across the heavens.

Maybe it was on this stage, trading secrets.

Maybe they were trading something else, too. Something neither of them were aware of.

Lance began to walk. He moved past Allura’s shouts, and right to the writhing mass of anger below them. He took a deep breath, and right as Keith moved his arm upwards to throw another blow, he grabbed Keith’s hand.

“Keith.”

His voice was barely a whisper, but it was like something had electrified the boy. Keith stopped, and all of the fight drained out of him. He looked up, towards Lance. And upon seeing him, Lance’s breath hitched.

Those eyes, which had been vacant all day long, which weren’t anything he had recognized before, were back.

But they were red, and they were wet. Tears were streaming down Keith’s face, and Lance couldn’t control his hand, moving towards the broken boy.

As soon as his thumb brushed away one of those tears, Keith was up. He was up, and he was running.

Just like last week.

Just like with his mother.

Lance was so fucking _tired_ of Keith running.

So instead of accepting it, Lance ran too.

He bolted, feet slapping across the wood of the stage as he chased after Keith.

“Keith!”

Memories flashed through his eyes as he went; Keith holding a hand to help him up, Keith awkwardly handing him chocolate and coke.

“ _Keith!”_

Bursting outside of the school doors, Lance didn’t even raise a hand to block the sudden sunlight.

Keith laughing as he sang “Ocean Man”, Keith calmly talking about his mother, Keith watching him sing with a strange sort of awe in his eyes.

Kissing Keith, and wondering if he’d ever felt this way before.

**_“KEITH!”_ **

His voice was a scream, piercing through the still air.

And yet, it wasn’t enough. Lance heard the sound of a motor, and his eyes adjusted just in time to see Keith on a red motorcycle, running away yet again.

The last thought Lance had was distant, a quiet, insignificant realization.

‘ _Keith’s the boy who always drives through my neighborhood at night.’_

And then another, slightly louder thought, mixed with the pain of now, with the hurt, with the awful mix of emotions swimming around in his brain.

‘ _Fucking bastard.’_

\---

_The things that you tell yourself_

_They'll kill you in time.._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! its been forever, but honestly when hasn't it been forever with me??  
> ive been working a l o t lately,, money's a bitch and i haven't had much time to sit down and write. but! good(maybe bad??) news is: we are reaching the end of this story.  
> i think the next chapter will be the last, with an epilogue after that. 
> 
> i hope you guys will stick with me towards the end. i love you all so so much, thank you so much for taking a chance on this story. <3 
> 
> my tumblr: [here!](https://simon-says-nothing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> playlist for this fic: [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3cTWM4m8pO8gMDQYDG1sTt)
> 
> the lyrics used in this chap were from one of my favorite songs of all time, coming up roses by elliott smith.

**Author's Note:**

> Oof, hi voltron fandom! I’m new here,,please don’t hurt me
> 
> Come chat on my tumblr! @simon-says-nothing
> 
> I’m EXTREMELY open to constructive critiscm!! So please, if anything is OOC or bad, let me know!! Thank you for reading!


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